


Cindereva

by Reiven



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Archery, Chris as a Soldier from the Enemy Nation, Cinderella Elements, Eva as Cinderella, F/M, Fairy Tale Retellings, Fantasy, Festivals, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2018-12-08 09:05:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 68,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11643330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reiven/pseuds/Reiven
Summary: Eva is a young girl - orphaned by the death of both her parents, who lives in a cottage by the woods with her two dogs, her two cats and a variety of animals that she calls family. She doesn't live a terrible life, only a lonely one, until one dark, stormy night, she stumbles across a mysterious, seriously injured man; a soldier from the enemy nation, and brings him home to care for him. She didn't know then how irrevocably her life was about to change.Maybe through it all, she might even find - love?





	1. A Cottage Near the Forest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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Once upon a time, in a faraway land, across the ocean and through the fields and the forests expanding far into the horizon, there were two kingdoms that lived through a constant state of war. People who lived in the two kingdoms could not remember a time of peace, before their nations started the battle that unrolled through decades and cost families fathers, sons, husbands and brothers.

It was the battle between the peaceful kingdom of the North, where the people fished for their trade and grew crops to keep their children fed and clothes on their backs and a roof over their heads, against the battle hardened kingdom of the South, where their soldiers were bred from young and taught to fight as children. Their king was a tyrant and a dictator and rejected all notions and requests from the North Kingdom for armistice and peace. The king only wanted war, he only wanted blood and all the people in the North knew about the Southern soldiers growing up was that they were blood thirsty killers who pillaged and plundered defenseless villages; destroyed their livelihoods and raped their women and bathed in the blood of their enemies and left their corpses out to be devoured by animals.

They were always immediately identifiable by their deep black uniform and blood red lining, and the menacing Wolf emblem on their chest piece.

It was the tale mothers would tell to their children to keep them from misbehaving: “Don’t be naughty, or the Penetrators will come to steal you from your beds as you sleep at night.”

It was the stories a little girl named Eva used to hear growing up, told to her by her mother when it was just the two of them curled up on the carpet, watching the crackle of the cinder burning in the fireplace.

Young Eva used to live in a big house with a large compound alongside her mother and her father and an array of animals that used to scurry around the household; dogs and cats and rabbits and mice and birds sitting perched on the windowsill singing their sweet songs.

But death and tragedy found Eva young even though she and her family lived on the outskirts of the kingdom, away from the town and the castles and so far away from the fighting often times it actually felt like it was nothing more than the fairytale her mother used to tell to her when she put her to bed.

She lost her mother to sickness and her father to heartbreak and lost her fortune and her house and her beautiful clothes over time to the debt collectors and money grubbing relatives, but Eva didn’t mind. She still had her animals and that was all that mattered to her.

She now lived in a ramshackle little hut at the edge of the clearing where the grassy plain met the mouth of the forest. It wasn’t a very big house but it was homely and it was cozy and it was hers and that was the only thing that mattered in the end. She planted flowers and vegetables in the small garden that surrounded her hut like a fence, the vines creeping up the outer walls and little purple flower blooming like Mother Nature’s own gift of artwork to her.

Her dogs and cats slept on the bed with her, the chickens and the birds perched on the arm rest of her worn sofa. The little mice and the squirrels in the potted plants hanging from the ceiling and the rabbits bunched up together at the foot of her bed.

It wasn’t a very big family, but it was hers.

She supported herself by working for a wealthy family, a Count and Countess and their daughters, that lived a few minutes’ walk up the cobblestone path after she’d trekked through the bushes away from her hut and away from the peaceful and comforting embrace it provided her. It was a beautiful life but it was also very lonely.

The family she worked for was very rich, and they were not friendly but they were also not cruel, with two daughters who were of similar age to Eva: Sara and Ingrid. Sara and Ingrid lived the life Eva once did, but she never begrudged them for what they had; for all the pretty clothes they wore and all the fine jewelry that glinted on their bodice; for the parents they still had who smiled at them and told them constantly how much they were loved. They were not friends by any definition of the word, and both the girls could be very callous with their words and very rude with their actions, but they were not bad people.

Sometimes when they had dresses that had perhaps ripped slightly at the seams, or had been stained in some way or had otherwise become unwearable to them, they would give them to Eva to fix and to keep, and even though some people may scoff at the idea, Eve was appreciative and joyful to receive every single one. She’d bring them back home and sew back the small tears or scrub the stains out when she washed her clothes by the edge of the sparkling river that streamed through the canopy of trees in the forest a few minutes’ walk away from her house, and every single dress would once again be almost brand new.

Eva lived a simple and lonely life, but it wasn’t unfulfilling. She’d wake up happy and go through her day; finish her work, and take a walk into town, greeting the bread makers and the fish sellers, and the kindly old lady who sold flowers off her cart. Every time they would meet, she would gift Eva a single blue flower to put in her hair as she continued on her walk, always smiling and always appreciative, greeting the townspeople and receiving cheery greetings in return.

Eva did have friends in town, the girls her age who would always be so happy to see her and whose company she was always so happy to be in as well.

There was Christina; she was also an orphan like Eva, but her father left her in ownership of a tavern before he died, and she’d brought it up to be one of the most well off and booming business in the kingdom, and Vilde, she was Christina’s friend long before she became Eva’s. She was a doll maker who would help out at Christina’s tavern whenever she was free. Then there was Sana, who was the daughter of a merchant from a faraway land who had immigrated to the town and started a business selling trinkets and odds and ends from various corners of the world. Her father and mother were always away on his travels so Sana and her brothers were usually left in charge of their shop.

Then there was Eva’s closest and dearest friend, Noora. Noora was a school teacher who was at the same time also studying to become a scholar and she was engaged to the second son of the town's wealthiest family, the Magnusson’s. Eva liked Noora from the very first moment they met, when Noora had defended her from a few of the snooty townswomen who were speaking badly of her and her deceased parents.

Spending the evening with Noora or any of the girls would always leave Eva in a good mood, and she’d return home to her house and for a while, everything would stop feeling so lonely. She’d finish up all her chores, wash her clothes and clean up; feed all her animals and water her garden and she would end up going to bed happy, only to then wake up the next morning to restart the same cycle all over again.

The youngest daughter of the Count, Ingrid, was engaged to be wed to the son of one of the Duke of the kingdom. His name was Jonas, and Eva would see him over at the house sometimes when she was busy cleaning the kitchen, or washing the clothes. He was a very handsome man, Eva used to think; the way he smiled at Ingrid and the way they laughed together, often times when Jonas’s eyes would find hers from across the room where she was passing through.

Eva wasn’t jealous of what Ingrid had, and she wasn’t jealous that she had it with Jonas. But once in a while, she couldn’t help but wonder whether there would come a time that she’d find someone who would look at her the way Jonas looked at Ingrid. Or even the way Jonas would sometimes look at her.

Eva never forgot the stories her mother used to tell to her about the Southern nation and their soldiers; little children used to call them the Penetrators because of stories of their kills, the way they would run their enemies through with their swords and watch them bleed to death in slow, terrible agony if the initial wound didn’t kill them instantly. But through the years, the tales of the South and the battle between the warmongering nation and their quaint little fishing nation, the fighting that went on—was still going on near the borders, through the years they became not much more than fairytales, especially in that area of the kingdom, almost on the opposite end of where the fighting was actually taking place.

Sometimes, Eva wondered whether it wasn’t just that: _a story_ , told to children to keep them in line, told to young boys and teenagers to keep them away from trouble and told to young girls to keep them away from the bad sort of men. Sometimes Eva wondered where there was an actual battle actually going on.

One night, Eva wished that she hadn’t wondered any of those things.

She had just returned home from town; the old baker’s mill had broken down and Eva had volunteered to help him prepare his dough for tomorrow’s selling day. She’d left the shop with a whole bag of leftover bread and some muffins and a very appreciative old man still yelling his _thank you_ s to her receding back. When she arrived home, she’d realized that she still had some many chores to finish, so after feeding her dogs and her cats and putting the feed out for the chickens and the birds and giving the rabbits and the mice their food, Eva reached for her basket of unwashed clothes and got ready to set out to the river edge.

The full moon was out high, casting an ethereal glow over the treetops and across the plains. She decided to finish the washing that night and hang the clothes out in preparation for the next day’s sunlight; at least she wouldn’t have to rush to get it done in the morning before she started work.

One of her dogs accompanied her, the younger one; the one who barked the loudest and the one with the overprotective streak when it came to her.  Eva welcomed his presence, not that she felt in anyway unsafe—the forest was her home after all, there was nowhere she felt safer—but it was nice to have company, even if the company had black fur and four legs.

The forest was never absent of sound, whether it was the sounds of the crickets chittering in the bushes, or the sound of a lone wolf howling somewhere in the distance, or just the sound of the breeze rustling the leaves and the branches of the trees. They were never sounds that scared Eva, she’d gotten used to it over time, though it used to startle her something bad when she was younger and had just moved into the small cottage after her parents passed. But nowadays she found those sounds comforting, soothing even, like the presence of old friend that would always be there for her.

She was so used to the different sounds that made up the music of the forest that one out of place snap of a rogue twig and the crackle of dried leaves that weren’t under her own feet didn’t even jar her senses. A sudden whistling gust of wind came blowing through the underbrush, rustling the leaves and sending her hair billowing into her face, and as he reached up to brush her hair back behind her shoulder, her dog started barking at a shadow among the bushes.

She looked in the direction her dog was growling at, her eyes trying to adjust to the darkness to find the source of his distress, but finding nothing but the eerie realization that a shadow in one particular spot seemed almost darker, and it wasn’t moving the same as all the other shadows cast by the light of the moon hanging in the sky behind it.

The fact that the shadow was _moving_ at all.

Eva felt her heart start thundering inside her chest. Her basket of laundry still clutched against her side and Faen, her dog, still barking aggressively at the dark; though he was backed up against Eva’s legs, acting as a protector between her and whatever it was lurking in the dark.

It felt like ages passed before Eva heard the snapping sound she’d missed before, and the sound of footsteps walking towards her from out of the darkness, and the indistinct shadow slowly morphed into a more defined shape of a person; their body outlined against the only light source in the distance. Eva could make out broad shoulders and short hair and she could tell that it was a man; and that fact immediately chilled her to the bones.

The second thing she noticed was that he’s wearing armour, something that made him almost completely invisible in the darkness of the forest because it was pitch black; the monochrome colour broken only by the eye catching red of the lining on his shoulders and down the side of his legs. But what made Eva’s heart nearly still in her chest after the rigorous way it had been beating not a moment ago, was the emblem that she’d only heard of in stories her mother told her as a child.

The wolf on the chest piece; its snarling face and teeth dripping blood, and eyes that were two sparkling green jewels, staring menacingly back at her.

The person was coming closer to where Eva was standing, frozen, unable to move. Unable to even think of moving. Even Faen’s barking had stopped and the dog seemed torn between staying between Eva and this new person, and running behind Eva to hide. She didn’t know what could have instilled such fear in her dog, Faen was the most fearless of all her animals.

But the closer the figure came to her, the most details she started to notice, like the fact that it wasn’t the wolf emblem on his chest that was dripping blood, it was blood dripping _from_ his chest; blood trickling down his hand hanging limply at his side and blood caking almost half of his face.

He came within ten feet of Eva’s breathless figure, tears prickling the back of her eyes and her words dead in her throat, unable to move or breathe or think. But his eyes were unseeing, he wasn’t even looking at her as he stepped closer and closer and closer.

Until he finally collapsed in an unmoving heap on the ground right at her feet.

Only then did Eva finally remember how to breathe.

**tbc.**


	2. A Soldier in the Woods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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Eva doesn’t know how long she stands there motionless, staring dumbfounded at the unconscious figure at her feet and the dark pool slowly growing larger around his unmoving body. Faen has ceased his barking and has retreated to cower behind Eva, peeking out at what was happening through the gap between her legs. So much for being her protector, Eva shakes her head while glancing back to look at the cowering hound behind her.

In the sky up above, she can see the dark clouds start gathering in the distance and the telltale rumble of the thunder slowly making its way towards her.

She doesn’t know what to do. Should she run? To where? To the Count’s house and tell them about the enemy that’s breached their borders and made his way into their quaint little village? Should she just run back to her house and pretend none of this was really happening? It would have been the most logical choice, after all who would know? _No one_ , not even the unconscious enemy before her.

But when Eva glances over at him again, seeing his bloodied face turned to the side, facing his arm splayed out in front of him. She sees the pool of blood spreading around him like a sinister halo and the way his breathing was coming out as uneven, pained gasps.

Eva finds herself on her knees beside him before she can really think of what she’s going to do. Her hands hover uncertainly over him, daring to reach over to touch him, but being terrified to do so.

He stirs all of a sudden, sending Eva tumbling back to land unceremoniously on her behind though her eyes stay glued fearfully on his otherwise motionless body, but he doesn’t wake up. Eva sees his mouth moving, but his words are too soft for her to hear, but she finds herself leaning down to listen; her ear close to his mouth and she hears his voice coming out more like a whisper but it causes her to immediately still in her place.

He says, “ _Mama_ ,” and Eva feels her own heart lurching in sympathy and understanding.

All of a sudden, she isn’t looking into the face of an enemy. She isn’t hearing the stories about the atrocities of the Southern soldiers playing on a loop inside her head. She isn’t looking at a vicious, blood-thirsty killer whose sole purpose in life was to maim and kill.

She’s just looking at a boy. A boy who’s been hurt and a boy who needs help, and the only one who is able and who is willing to offer this boy help is _her_. Her mind is immediately made up in that instance.

Faen has moved on closer to them at this point, though he remains wary, sniffing the body suspiciously, his tail tucked firmly between his legs and his entire body language shows that he is immediately ready to leap back if something is to suddenly pop up.

Eva’s mind immediately runs through everything she knew about the human anatomy from reading the science text books she’d borrowed from Noora. She reaches over and hesitantly, though firmly, grabs the soldier by his arm, her other hand grasping the material around his waist before she heaves with her whole body, pulling him onto his back so that she could better examine his wounds. Her fingers fiddle awkwardly with the latches of his armour, praying that he wouldn’t suddenly wake up and…and…what? Hurt her? Kill her?

Eva shakes the thought from her mind just as her fingers find the right way to unlock the metal latches down his side, freeing his torso from the constricting protective breastplate. Eva’s stomach churns when she hears the squelching sound of the drying blood soaking his entire chest and sticking to the inside of the armour coming free. There’s a deep stab wound almost right in the middle of his side where the seams of the front and back plate of the armour doesn’t meet fully, still leaking blood. Eva doesn’t think before reaching into her basket and pulling out one of her dresses, tearing a section out of the hem of the skirt with her teeth and using it to try and staunch the blood flow.

The man moans when Eva pushes down on the still raw wound in his side, but Eva doesn’t ease up on the pressure. She tears a length of fabric out of the same skirt and uses it as a bandage to hold the bunched up cloth against his wound.

Eve tries to think, she tries to plan—anything, but her brain is a muddled mess and she can only concentrate on trying not to let the person in front of her bleed to death right before her eyes. Her ears are listening in to detect any sounds of approaching footsteps or the sounds of voices coming closer, but there’s only the howling of the wind and the rumble of the thunder approaching from the horizon.

She grabs the incriminating armour; unable to tear her eyes away from the Wolf emblem carved into the front; it’s sparkling green eyes gazing unblinking at her, as if judging her menacingly. She grabs what’s left of the dress she’d torn to use as a tourniquet, wraps the armour up in a bundle alongside his sword and the small dagger he had at his hip that revealed him as a Southern soldier. She ties it off tightly, getting to her feet and running deeper into the forest, heading straight towards a bush sitting unnoticed in front the towering tree standing tall among the shrubbery of the forest.  Eva grabs a handful of leaves, scrunching it up in her palm and starts rubbing the gooey substance seeping from the leaves all over the bundle in her arms.

It was one of the plants she’d studied closely after she’d moved closer into the realm of Mother Nature. When plucked from the branches and mashed up, the leaves would emit a scent only noticeable to animals with a keen sense of smell, driving them off. She only learned that because both her dogs would avoid walking anywhere close to that bush the few times she ventured this far out into the forest. Once she is content that nothing would be able to find the armour no matter what hunting animal they brought with them, she steps up on her tip toes and pushes the bundle into the opening in the side of the giant tree, away from prying eyes and sniffing noses. Only after she is reassured that no one but her would be able to find the objects, she quickly returns to the side of the soldier, finding him in the exact same position she left, still completely lost to the world.

The second obstacle in her predicament quickly emerges. How is she going to get him all the way back to her cottage by herself?

He is free of most of the heaviness of the armour, but it is still the dead weight of a man nearly twice her size that Eva would have to carry on her. She is used to carrying heavy loads of washing for long distances, but this is a different kind of heaviness. Nevertheless, Eva knows she has to do something; otherwise she might as well just leave him there to bleed to death, which is something she most definitely isn’t going to let happen, enemy or otherwise.

She kneels down, her back to him, grabbing one of his arms and then the other and pulling them up and across her own shoulders, pulling him into a sitting position before he leans lifelessly against her back. She heaves him up further until his arms are circled around her shoulders and neck and his head lolling limply onto his arm on her shoulder. Once she’s confident that his arms are secured around her shoulders, she reaches her arms back, her fingers intertwining just above his thighs and she adjusts her hold his body behind her, taking all of his weight on her small figure.

Now comes the hard part.

Eva heaves, but tries not to make too much noise as she slowly and painstakingly gets to her feet, bearing one hundred percent of his weight on her person. It was challenging, but somehow Eva managed to find the strength to put one foot ahead of the other. She keeps chanting the words ‘just one more step’ to herself like a mantra.

She doesn’t know how long it takes her to make her way back to her cottage; sweat is dripping down her forehead and the side of her face, but she makes it. The sky was slowly unleashing a drizzling of rain, not enough to get her wet, but enough to make her realize that she needs to hurry.

The rain starts pouring by the time she makes it through the front door and into her house; finding a measure of comfort at the sight of her warm bed and her cosy living room and all her animals all of a sudden up and alert, startled by her sudden presence, or perhaps the presence of the unknown scent of the new human.

Eva makes her way towards her bed, slowly lowering the soldier down onto the mattress on his side. In the light of the candle burning softly on the side table of her bed, Eva can finally make out his injuries even more clearly. Her makeshift tourniquet seemed to have done its job, because even though the material and the bandage wrapped around his torso is soaked in blood, it isn’t trickling down his side anymore and Eva can finally breathe a sigh of relief.

Shooing off the animals crowding around her and the sudden appearance of Faen by her side, Eva rushes back out into the forest in the pouring rain to get her basket of laundry that had been so callously discarded.

Fy, her older dog was sniffing the foot hanging off the bed suspiciously when she returned. She locks and bolts the front door behind her, moving around to light up a few more candles to illuminate the space better before she moves back to where the soldier is still unconscious on her bed.

She removes his boots first, arranging them neatly beside the leg of the bed before she reached over to undo his tunic and pull it off his body. His injuries are far worse that her initial assessment. It isn’t just the painful looking stab wound in his side; there are also a myriad of other wounds, fresh and old, some still bleeding and others scabbed over littering his stomach, torso and arms. The worst ones are the long gashes on his stomach and chest and the second stab wound in his shoulder and it takes Eva a moment to take a breath and decide on her course of action.

She adjusts his body so that he’s lying in a better position on the mattress, stretched out across the length on his back, before she goes to the kitchen to get a bowl of water, a clean wash rag and a few of her homemade natural ointments to help prevent his injuries from getting infected. She returns a few second later and immediately gets to work. Removing his trousers and feeling more than a little relieved that he was wearing something else underneath. She cleans off the dried blood, trying not to be too rigorous in her wiping; cleaning the area of the injuries without touching the injuries themselves. Once his body is free of dirt and grime and blood, anything that would have increased his chances for getting an infection, Eva gets a new cloth and works to carefully clean the blood from the side of his face, scrubbing a little harder to get the clumps of dried blood out of his hair. Only after she’s done does she move to clean the wounds themselves with water mixed with disinfectant and to finish it off by slathering the thick pasty ointment on the open wounds. He subconsciously hisses and his breath hitches when Eva’s fingers brush against the painful open wounds but he doesn’t wake up. Once she she’s satisfied that all the fresh injuries have been tended to, she starts bandaging his torso and his shoulder with the fresh cloth she pulled out of her cupboard.

Only after she’s tucked him into bed and pulled up the blanket to cover him does she allow herself to relax; leaning back in the chair by the side of the bed and releasing a sigh of relief.

Looking at the man still unconscious before her, though he looks much better than he did when she carried him back to her house not a few hours ago, it finally occurs to Eva that she has an _enemy_ , not only in her company and in her house but in her _bed_.

In the moment she has to just sit back and breathe, she takes a good look at him. His face is surprisingly young looking, almost innocent if not for the large bruise covering almost half of it. But his body is definitely one that has seen many hardships.

Eva forces herself to look away and to stop thinking about it and about him beyond everything she could see with her own eyes.

She doesn’t need all these feelings and emotions, she doesn’t even know how everything is going to turn out or whether her decision to save him is going to be one that’s she’s proud of or one that she’s going to regret for the rest of her life. But at the same time, she recognizes that he’s still a person, like her and she couldn’t have possibly just hung back and done nothing. That wasn’t the way she was raised and Eva would like to think that her parents would have been proud of what she did this day.

Even if it turns out to be the worst thing she has ever done.

The next couple of days pass in a bizarre haze that doesn’t feel particularly real or particularly unreal.

The soldier doesn’t stir once in the two days since Eva carried him home and tended to his injuries. She spoon feeds broth and water to his unconscious form to give him strength and to keep him alive and cleans his wounds and changes his dressing at least once a day. She then would spend the nights looking over his unconscious form breathing unevenly in his slumber.

On the second day, he develops a fever from an infection in the wound in his side, and Eva spends the whole night dabbing the sweat beading on his forehead and down his neck with a cool damp cloth, trying to keep his temperature from getting any higher. He’d moan occasionally and mutter words she can’t understand in his sleep, whether from the pain or the nightmares plaguing him, Eva doesn’t know, but she’d sing a soft tune to his restless form which seems to calm him down almost immediately.

On the third day, his temperature finally goes down and Eva can finally breathe a sigh of relief.

But outside of everything she is going through at home, time and responsibilities don’t allow Eva a moment of rest. She still has a job to get to and she still has other responsibilities that need tending to. Where she would have usually taken a walk into town to buy some things or to see her friends after work, nowadays she’d head straight home immediately to check on the soldier who still hasn’t woken up once in the few days she has been caring for him.

She is on the way back to her cottage when she remembers that she hasn’t seen Noora or any of the girls in days, and all of a sudden Eva realizes how much she missed talking with them; how much she misses having Noora to talk to. But she is afraid that if she runs into Noora she’d find herself immediately telling her about the unconscious enemy currently taking refuge at her home; she doesn’t want to put Noora in the position of having to keep that secret from their friends or from her fiancée. Eva is content with shouldering that burden herself.

It’s the eve of the fourth day, after many sleepless nights spent watching over and caring for the soldier in her bed while balancing her responsibilities outside her home life and trying to thwart the curiosity of Fy who keeps walking up to sniff suspiciously at the stranger occupying Eva’s bed, and Faen who’d taken refuge in the small nook between the wall and the table by the window, watching everything moving around the house with a critical eye. Eva can’t blame them for being wary. Her cats are currently perched on top most level of her book shelf, knocking her books and her little trinkets to the ground every time they stretch, though they doesn’t seem particularly interested in anything that is going on. The rabbits and the mice doesn’t care at all.

Eva was putting out seeds for the birds outside her window when she hears the hoarse groan and the moan of pain coming from her bed.

She swallows hard, putting aside the bowl of seeds and taking her time in turning around, rubbing the palm of her hands on the front of her skirt nervously and smoothing out the non-existent creases. Only after she’d managed to steel herself does she turn around; taking short, soundless steps over to the side of the bed, watching the occupant writhing involuntary under the blanket, his eyes closed and his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth downturned in a grimace of pain.

Eva can feel the pounding of her heart inside her chest as she walks closer, her eyes unconsciously looking around for something she could use to defend herself if it came to that. She realizes that nearly all of her animals are out of sight, all except her older dog, Fy; her muzzle speckled grey being the only thing showing her age. She was a puppy when her father brought her home as a gift, and she’s been a loyal companion to Eva ever since. She feels rather than sees Fy walking up beside her, her hind brushing up against Eva’s leg as they both come to a stop about a foot away from the bed.

Eva doesn’t know how long she stands there, watching the figure in front of her slowly emerge from the dark recesses of unconsciousness. It’s slow and it’s painful and every time he grimaces and every time he groans from the agony, Eva feels her fear slowly ebbing away, if nothing else, it was because she knew he is in no position to harm her if it is something he’d choose to do.

She’s looking straight at his face when his eyes crack open, his eyelids opening and closing in rapid succession as his vision slowly starts adjusting to the light. Eva’s house isn’t particularly bright, even with the sun shining at its peak during the day; there is always a calming glow that streams into her house because of the wine stained glass that covers her windows. But it is still no doubt something to get used to for someone who hasn’t seen the light of the sun in days.

The man doesn’t seem to notice Eva standing near the foot beside the bed until she clears her throat, catching his attention. Eve felt like she was watching it all unfold in slow motion from the moment his head turned slightly towards the source of the sound and the way his glassy eyes widened slightly when he realizes that he isn’t alone. He moves to get up before Eva can even tell him not to and the effect is instantaneous; with an agonized whimper he immediately curls in on himself, his hand moving to grasp the wound at his side, his eyes clenched shut.

Eva moves without thinking, converging on him immediately, the fear gone from her mind as she bends down to touch his uninjured shoulder, running her hand up and down his arm in a comforting manner, her other hand on his forehead, stroking his dishevelled hair back and out of his face.

“Don’t try to move,” she says. “You were injured badly, and the wound has only just started healing. You will cause it to tear open again if you move too much.”

It takes a moment before his hitched breathing finally evens out again and he relaxes back onto the mattress, though he doesn’t move to open his eyes.

Eva doesn’t withdraw her touch until he eventually opens his eyes again to stare confusedly at her. She has to lean in close to hear him when she sees him lips moving but no sound comes out. She understand the word ‘water’ and quickly reaches over to the side table where a small glass is sitting next to a jug of clear plain liquid and the small wooden spoon inside it.

Without word, Eva lifts his upper body slightly to adjust the pillow behind him so that he’s more sitting up than lying down and she quickly moves to pour a small amount of water into the spoon, bringing it to his lips and encouraging him to drink. Eva can feel his gaze boring holes into her, unblinking, but she doesn’t meet his eyes. Busying herself with refilling the liquid again and bringing it to his lips in a consistent motion until he holds a hand up to let her know that he’s had enough.

Neither of them says a word when he lies back down and closes his eyes, breathing in and out deliberately as Eva takes a seat on the edge of the mattress, taking up as little space as possible.

Eventually his eyes open again and focus immediately on Eva.

Eva can feel the vibration of Fy’s guttural growl at her feet and she takes comfort in reaching down to stroke her head before she lifts her eyes to meet the gaze staring intently at her.

“Where ‘m I?” he asks, his voice hoarse and barely above a whisper.

“A little village in the North,” she says. “You collapsed at my feet in the forest four days ago and I brought you back here.”

The soldier keeps silent though he doesn’t tear his eyes away from Eva and Eva bravely forces herself to keep meeting his gaze to show him that she isn’t afraid even though she’s absolutely terrified on the inside. She doesn’t think she’s showing her fear outright but it must have shown in her eyes because the soldier says, “I’m not going to hurt you,” before he eventually tears his eyes away to look at his new surroundings.

Eva mimics his action, looking at Fy still completely alert at her feet and Faen who’s finally come out of his hiding place but hanging back a considerable distance away.

“T’is your house?” she hears him ask after a while and turns back to see his eyes on her again. She nods, though before she can verbalize an answer he continues. “Why?” That confuses Eva for a while as she tilts her head slightly in a questioning manner. “Why’d you help me?” he elaborates. Speaking is hard for him she can tell, but she understands his need to understand what’s happened.

Eva looks away with a small shrug, weaving her fingers together on her lap nervously. “I don’t know.”

The soldier regards her critically. He swallows painfully before he says, “Y’ don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into,” he says, causing Eva to pause and to turn back to look at him. “Y’ don’t know—who I am.”

Eva swallows hard, clenching her fists so tightly over the other she leaves crescent shaped indentations in the back of her hand. “I do,” she admits, causing his brows to furrow slightly as he tries to decipher what exactly she means by that. “You’re one of them, aren’t you? One of the soldiers of the South. One of the Penetrators?” she states as well as asks. She can see that he’s taken aback by her words, though he schools his expression almost immediately when she finishes.

“If you knew…th’n why? Why help me?” he asks, and Eva can see that he’s trying to make sense of everything but obviously failing to do so. She’d left him at a complete loss with her answer.

“Because…” she starts, steeling herself, “Because…because you’re still a person. And because you needed help.”

His mouth opens and closes soundlessly, his eyes narrowed in confusion and he’s staring at her so intently that Eva can felt her heart starting to pound inside her chest.

“What’s your name?” he asks after a while, changing the tense subject and Eva is grateful for that.

“Eva,” she says. “What’s yours?”

It takes him a moment of mental debating before he answers. “Christoffer,” he says. “Chris.”

It finally occurrs to Eva, seeing the sun peeking high above the treetops through the window facing East, that despite the new developments between her and the unknown soldier—Chris, she amends—she still has a job to get to and she is most definitely late. She jumps to her feet suddenly, startling Chris as she stutters out her apology.

“Oh. Oh no, I’m late for work,” she tells him, rushing to the kitchen, grabbing a bowl and scooping some of the broth into it and grabbing a few slices of bread from the cutting board by the window and hurrying back towards where Chris is still eyeing her critically. “I’m sorry, but—here’s some broth and bread in case you get hungry. I—I have to get to work. I’m so late. I’m sorry.” She makes room from the bowl beside the water on the table and paces around confusedly before grabbing her cloak and walking back to the bed one last time. “I’ll be back in the evening. Don’t mind the dogs, they’re just nervous because they don’t know you, but they’re good dogs. I’m sorry to have to leave so abruptly, especially since you just woke up and—”

Chris immediately brings a hand up to stop her. “S’okay. I’ll manage,” he says, which brings a wide smile to Eva’s face and with one last ‘I’m sorry’, she rushes out the door, closing it with a click, plunging the house immediately into silence with Chris laying on the bed staring at the door she just exited out of with a confused gaze.

This is not at all how he expected things to turn out.

**tbc.**


	3. The Girl in the Red Hood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The whole work day Eva finds herself completely distracted. She can’t shake the thoughts of the man back at her house and the emotions that come with it; the knowledge of who he is, _what_ he is, and that he’s currently in her house and in her bed, in the company her pets who mean the absolute world to her. She’d left him there after just waking up from almost dying, confused and weak, surrounded by her dogs that were terrified and in her home that was her sanctuary.

She knows nothing about him, but she knows everything there is to know about his people, or at least, everything she’d ever been told about them and up until that point, everything she thought she ever needed to know.

But now she knows his name: _Christoffer_ and it doesn’t sound like it should belong to one of the Southern monsters in the tales she grew up listening to. It sounds exactly the way he looks, which is just _human_.

Eva’s gone through many moments in the last four days absolutely regretting her choice to carry him back and tend to his wounds. But that moment when he said his name, when she finally took a good look at him, when she finally saw his face, _really_ saw his face and it finally occurred to her that he couldn’t have been much older than her; at that moment, she realized that all her feelings of regret and uncertainty finally washed away.

It isn’t until she finds herself being scolded by the matron of the household for accidentally putting the good rice out for the chickens that Eva realizes that she’s been going through the motions and moving through the day in something of an out-of-focus haze. Unfortunately, it was at that exact moment that Count chose to pass by the kitchen, peeking in curiously at the sound of the raised voices to see her getting reprimanded by the older woman.

He cleared his throat when he entered, catching their attention and immediately stopping the housekeeper’s impassioned lecture.

“Give us a minute,” he says to the older woman who obliges immediately with a curtsy, leaving Eva with the imposing figure of the Count who she’s never actually really met face to face before.

“My lord,” Eva bows nervously. “I’m sorry about the rice, and for being distracted. It won’t happen agai—”

He immediately raises his hand to stop her. “No, it’s not about that—Eva, was it?”

“Yes, sir.” Eva raises her eyes to look at him, seeing his gaze on her and the expression on his face being one she can’t decipher.

“How long have you been working here, Eva?” he asks, stepping to the side and taking seat on one of the stools by the table. He beckons Eva towards the empty stool opposite him.

“Three years, sir,” she says, taking small hesitant steps closer and taking seat, slouching slightly as she sits down, her hands clasped nervously on her lap.

“That would make you…nineteen? Twenty?” he asks with genuine curiosity.

“Eighteen, sir. I’ll turn eighteen in a few months,” Eva says.

The Count actually looks taken aback by her answer. “Eighteen? Ingrid’s age,” he says sadly. “How old were you when your parents passed?”

“Thirteen,” she says, looking down at her intertwined hands.

He runs his hand across his face once and exhales. “I knew your father when he was alive. He was a good man. Both your parents were good people and it saddened me to hear about their passing. It has been haunting me for a long time but I think perhaps I could have done more to help you instead of taking you in as the help. I only now realize just young you were and how young you still are and—”

This time it’s Eva who interrupts him before he has a chance to finish. “No, sir,” she says, “All this…all you’ve done to help by giving me this job, it has been invaluable to me. I wouldn’t someone’s handouts or their pity, and having this job, in a way, it’s give me reason to get up and get out of bed in the morning, so please don’t feel like you’ve done anything wrong.”

The Count regards her critically and Eva nearly folds under his intense gaze. But eventually he smiles, his eyes are warm and kind and not unlike the look her own father used to have in his eyes. “You’re an remarkable person, Eva, and we are lucky to have you in our family,” he says. “But you do seem a little distracted today, are you ill?”

“No, sir, I’ve just—had some things on my mind. It won’t happen again.”

“Why don’t you take the day off, Eva,” he says, obviously not listening to what she’d said. “There’s nothing that needs your immediate attention. In fact, take the weekend off and come back to work fresh in the new week. Go to town and see your friends and just have fun. You’ve deserved it.”

“But—”

“No buts, this isn’t a request,” he says, but his eyes are still warm and comforting and Eva can’t help her sheepish smile.

So that’s how she ends up trekking up the footpath leading away from the giant mansion in her rear; her reliable cloak around her shoulders and the hood that she could pull up over her head hanging behind almost down to her shoulder blades. The cloak had been the last gift she’d received from her mother before she died. She’d sewed it as she lay sick in bed for the few months before she succumbed to her illness. It was a beautiful dark red colour with fine golden embroidery across the hem and in the seams of the hood. It used to drag on the ground when she wore it when she was younger, but now it hung to just below her shins which was the perfect length even when it was raining out and she’d have to traverse through the puddles in the road.

Instead of taking the right turn which would lead her back to her cottage near the woods, Eva turns left to head into town for supplies. Noora was still in school and Christina was no doubt neck deep in the mid-morning rush of customers coming in for their morning ale and late breakfast. Both Vilde and Sana had their own businesses to run so Eva decided not to bother any of them as she enters the quaint little town and heads towards the apothecary to get disinfectant alcohol and a few other things she thinks she might need. She didn’t usually chose to spend her hard earned money on things she could get from the forest, but some things were worth keeping in case of emergencies.

She passes by the flower lady who smiles wide when she sees her and as usual, reaches into her basket of flowers, pulling out a single blue flower and tucking it behind Eva’s ear. Eva smiles and thanks her before moving on to the bakers. After the incident with the mill the past week, the baker has since refused to allow her to pay for any of the baked goods she picked despite her argument. Eventually she relents, and makes it a point to only take the smallest pieces and the driest muffins so that it wouldn’t affect the old bakers business.

She’s half across the street when she spots Vilde skipping down the road happily, clutching a white cat doll in her arms and pushing in the doors of the bakery with perhaps a bit too much enthusiasm. They all knew she was infatuated with the baker’s son, but no one commented on it as a point of teasing because they could tell that she truly liked him.

The fish seller gives her a good offer on the fresh catch of the day and Eva thinks she might make a fish dinner with some potatoes that night. She wonders what _Chris_ would like to eat when he’s strong enough to take in solid food; she knows first-hand the health benefits of fish so maybe that was the best place to start.

She leaves town without running into her friends and it’s a realization that both saddens and relieved her at the same time. She wouldn’t want to have to lie to them about what she’s been up to.

Chris is asleep when she gets home; she peeks in through the half open door before she enters while trying not to make too much sound. The broth and bread are still on the table where she left it, untouched, but perhaps he wasn’t strong enough to muster the strength needed to eat; it’s a fact Eva ponders over with a small feeling of guilt at having to leave him so abruptly.

Fy is surprisingly asleep and stays asleep when she enters, curled up on the floor near the foot of the bed and Faen in a similar position near the cupboard a few feet away.

She’s so engrossed in the sight that meets her eyes that she forgets to sidestep the loose floorboard that’s been a bane in her existence for years. She steps right in the middle of it causing a wailing creaking sound to emit shocking both dogs immediately out of their sleep and causing Chris to startle into consciousness. She finds herself unable to move out of the awkward stance she’d paused it the moment her foot touched the floor; smiling sheepishly when Chris’s completely alert gaze finds hers.

“Sorry,” she says. “I’ve been meaning to get that fixed for years, but ended up never getting around to it.”

Chris visibly relaxes and Eva notes with some level of satisfaction the fact that he even has a small smile playing at his lips.

He swallows once before turning back to look at her. “How was work?” he asks and for a second Eva has to pinch herself to make sure that she isn’t stuck in some dream, because that’s how surreal the moment felt.

This was an enemy soldier, in her _house_ , lying in her bed, looking about as weak as a day old kitten asking her about her day. He didn’t know her and she didn’t know him, although after having sat by his bedside for four nights, feeding him and cleaning his wounds, Eva thinks that perhaps she’s seen more of him than she ever has another living human being. Seeing the scars that marred his body, some new, still red and enflamed; some of them old and had turned a pale white where the skin had knitted together uneven. Long wounds and short wounds and burn marks and welts, more injuries than she’d ever seen on a human body, and what looked like a wolf’s head branded into the area of his chest, below his collarbone but just above his heart. That one seemed to be the oldest of them all.

Truthfully, she didn’t know what to make of the whole situation or how she actually felt about it, but most of all, she was unnerved by how at ease she felt in the moment and how the question didn’t at all seem out of place or wrong. Was this how it felt to come home to someone’s welcome at the end of a long and hard day?

Eva wasn’t used to it but—but it felt… _nice_.  

Eva realizes she’s staring at him without answering for a long pause before she nervously looks away with an embarrassed chuckle. “It was…okay,” she says. “The Count let me leave early so I managed to get some supplies from town.” She walks over to the kitchen and deposits the bags of groceries onto the table. Pulling out the disinfectant and ointment she’d gotten, showing him both briefly before putting it aside and putting the fish and the bread on the countertop out of the way.

While she was doing it, she could feel the heat of Chris’s gaze on her and it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up but she tries not to bring attention to it. Instead, once she finished putting away her things and set the fish aside to be cleaned and deboned for later, she walks towards the bed while wiping her hands on the front material of her skirt.

Chris’s eyes continue following her as she approaches.

“You didn’t eat anything?” she asks, taking seat on the edge of the mattress and looking between the bowl on the side table and the man lying in the bed beside her. “You need to eat a little to get your strength back up to allow your body to heal.”

Chris doesn’t say anything, but his eyes are so intense watching her that she has to keep her own eyes averted. Instead, she reaches to grab the bowl, using the spoon to stir the now cold broth to mix the herbs and flavour that had sunk to the bottom. Setting it aside once more, she reaches up again, lifting Chris’s upper body gently and arranging the pillows behind his head and upper back before setting him back down. Chris continues his silence and Eva doesn’t make eye contact. The whole thing is done in complete silence until Eva sits back down on the edge and reaches for the bowl again, scooping up a small amount of broth in the spoon and holding it close to Chris’s lips. He looks absolutely taken aback, looking between the spoon and Eva until he eventually relents and opens his mouth to accept the food.

Eva tries not to look too satisfied but she thinks she isn’t doing a very good job at it. After about ten minutes and less than a quarter of the broth actually finished, Chris finally holds a hand up to let her know that he’s done. Eva obliges immediately.

“Why are you doing this?”

She hears the question again as she’s gathering up the bowl, taking a bite out of the now stale bread that had been out since morning and starts to head to the kitchen.

“I already told you—”

“There’s helping a stranger,” Chris says, almost like he’s trying hard to make sense of everything. He looks just as perplexed about the situation as Eva does and that offers her a small measure of comfort. “And there’s…what you’re doing,” he says. “I’m your enemy; you shouldn’t be this kind to me.” Just when Eva thinks he’s finished, he adds, “What would your family think if they knew who you were harbouring?”

And that statement immediately causes her to still in place. She’s glad she has her back to him, and it takes all her will power not to drop the bowl and plate to shatter on the floor. She looks down at the bowl in her hand, finding the ripple in the thick liquid caused by her hand shaking involuntarily almost mesmerising. At least it offers her some sort of distraction from the situation.

She has to force her voice not to shake when she answers. “They would think what they’re thinking right now,” she says without turning around.

“What do you mean?”

Eva can’t see his face, but she can hear the confusion clear in his voice.

“My family,” she says, “You’re looking at them,” she says, and continues on her way to the kitchen without turning around once to look at him or to elaborate.

Chris watches her retreating back and the confusion is clear on his face. Whatever question he wanted to ask next quickly dying on his lips the moment his eyes fall on the dogs still curled up on the floor and the cats he can see staring at him from on top of the bookshelf. He looks around more and sees a variety of different animals perched on various surfaces across the small cottage that he hadn’t noticed before. In that moment, he understands completely.

He doesn’t say anything after that, and when Eva finally returns to his side, a forced smile plastered onto her face, carrying a bowl of water and a clean cloth, he doesn’t bring up the question again.

He watches silently as her hands expertly move to clean his wounds. He swallows the groan that threatens to emerge when she touches a particularly painful spot. But he was used to it: _pain_. What he wasn’t used to was _kindness_ , and this meek, defenceless girl was showing him more kindness than he was used to or even deserved and it unnerved him to the core.

He really doesn’t know what to think. He just follows her with his eyes as she bustles around the house, feeding the animals and tidying around. She doesn’t make eye contact with him again after that conversation but she doesn’t seem particularly upset, so Chris allows her to have her moment without disruption.

She cooks fish that night and it’s the most heavenly thing he’s ever smelled in his life, but he declines when she offers it to him. Mainly because the thought of eating anything didn’t seem particularly inviting, but he watches her while she eats, periodically putting aside a piece for the cats perched around her plate on the table. It wasn’t that he was unused to seeing girls; he had a lot of beautiful girls and beautiful women waiting back home to throw themselves at his feet, but none of them were quite like the girl sitting in front of him, smiling at her cats and the little mice scurrying across the table, and reaching over the pet the dogs sitting protectively by her side. He could tell that she’d seen her fair share of pain and loneliness, but the fact that she could still be this kind of person, the kind of person who would bring a stranger into their home knowing full well that he was an enemy of the nation and undoubtedly a wanted criminal. The kind of person who would nurse him back to health and feed him and clean his wounds and worry about his wellbeing even when they knew nothing about each other and she had no way of knowing that he wouldn’t wake up suddenly and kill her in her sleep.

He’s heard what the Northern people had to say about the Southern soldiers. He’s heard the rumours they tell their children about the Penetrators. He knows what thought goes through people’s mind when they talk about the South and he knows that Eva has undoubtedly heard all the same stories and more, and the fact that she still did what she did…

That was a realization that really made him take a step back and recognize that perhaps there still was some good left in the world.


	4. A Wolf in the Cottage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>   
> 

A week passes almost in the blink of an eye.

It was seven days ago that Eva ventured out into the forest with her basket perched on her hip and her trusty hound trotting beside her, tongue out and tail wagging excitedly.

It was seven days ago that she found one of the infamous Southern soldiers collapsed at her feet, completely at her mercy.

It was seven days ago that Eva’s life was turned completely on its head, but now Eva can’t even remember clearly what her life had been like before that one moment, seven days ago.

Chris was slowly regaining his strength. He was now able to sit up in bed and walk short distances to the dining table or the chair in the living room. The journey was slow and painful, but at least he could make it.

She spent the weekend she’d been given off at home; fussing around her cottage and doing some much needed spring cleaning, catching up on the gardening she’d been sorely been neglecting. Pulling out the weeds and planting the new seeds she’d picked up in the forest. Washing her clothes and sheets and trying to clean out as much of Chris’s blood from her bedcovers and blanket. It took a lot of scrubbing but eventually she managed to clean it until it was barely a noticeable stain. She even tried cleaning the dried blood out of the clothes Chris has been wearing that night, at least, what was left of the clothes. The pants were still salvageable but the tunic was nearly shredded that not even Eva’s seamstress skills would be able to fix.

She returned home after washing and hanging everything out to dry to find Chris’s intense gaze on her from the moment she stepped through the door. He was sitting up on the bed in fresh new sheets she’d pulled from her cupboard, his whole torso and shoulder wrapped up tight with white bandages, and Eva was glad to see that they had remained white. It meant that the wounds had finally stopped leaking fresh blood. His face was still a mess of black and blue and the scar running diagonally up through his eyebrow and forehead and disappearing into his hairline and the second one cutting just under the same eye, across his cheekbone nearly to his ear, had dried and scabbed over.

He was sitting up, leaning against the headboard, his uninjured arm wrapped protectively around his torso and covering his side, watching her intently as she went about her business; pulling out pans and pots in preparation for dinner that night. It was her last day off from work and she wanted to cook something special for her and Chris, whose presence she’d become far too comfortable and familiar with in the short period of time since he came stumbling into her reality and shaken it to its very foundation.

She’d put out the cutting board and her knife and the vegetables she’d picked from her garden when the sudden and unexpected knock startled her, causing her to almost drop everything to the floor. She immediately looks at Chris, who’s staring apprehensively at the door, a strange, unreadable look on his face. Eva gathers her wits about her and motions him to keep quiet with a finger to her lips before she rushes towards the door to see who the unexpected guest was who’d decided to show up.

She opens the door a sliver, peeking out through the crack and she doesn’t know whether to breathe a sigh of relief or gasp when she’s met by Noora’s smiling face and her cheery, “Hallo,”  looking at her peeking eye through the small opening of the door. Only then does she notice all three of the girls standing just behind Noora; Christina waving excitedly at her from over Noora’s shoulder, Sana sparing a tight lipped smile, holding up a basket of what Eva can tell is freshly baked bread and Vilde stepping up beside Noora to mimic Christina’s wave albeit with a little less enthusiasm.

Eva looks back at Chris who’s staring at her with unease; she shakes her head slightly and holds a hand up to him before pulling the door open a little wider so that she’s standing in full view of the girls without revealing her unexpected guest hidden in the corner of the small cottage, behind the door out of sight.

“Girls, what are you doing here?” she asks; the happiness in her voice is genuine but still somewhat apprehensive given her situation.

It’s Noora who speaks first. “Well, it’s been so long since anyone saw you in town. We were getting worried. Plus we missed you.”

“Also Magnus said you came by the bakery the other day,” Vilde says, “But you didn’t stop by to say hi.”

“Sorry, I’ve just been…things have just been a little hectic this past week. I’m sorry if I worried you,” Eva says and she genuinely means that. It was heart-warming to think that they missed her enough to come seeking her out for no other reason than because they cared. It warmed Eva to the core.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Noora says.

“Also we brought you some bread and a freshly baked pie, courtesy of Magnus’s father,” Sana says, holding out the basket to her.

Just the smell from that distance was heavenly, and Eva lets go of the door to grab the basket with both hands, momentarily forgetting about the actual reason why she hadn’t gone to see the girls in so long. At least not until Christina accidentally kicks the welcome rug on the landing as she’s stepping up and crashes in through the door, stumbling with flailing arms before she lands in an unceremonious heap on the floor right in the middle of Eva’s living room. Eva drops the basket in her shock and rushes in towards Christina, the rest of girls stumbling in one after another immediately after.

It’s Sana who notices first as everyone is fussing over Christina laughing in complete amusement from where she’s splayed out on the floor. “Uh… _Eva_?”

Eva looks at Sana and sees Sana not looking at her but at… _oh no_.

The girls look at Eva, then at Sana then turns to look in the direction Sana is gaping at and everyone is left at a complete loss for words, Eva and Chris included.

Chris is staring back at them with a disinterested, cool gaze, though Eva can see how nervous he really is. Eva was completely speechless, looking between Chris and the girls, her mouth opening and closing and her eyes widened in shock, grasping for whatever excuse, whatever explanation she could think of, but she couldn’t think of anything.

Once again it’s Noora, ever the voice of reason, who finds her voice first to ask—or more like bellow out. “What the hell is going on? Eva?” she turns immediately to Eva for the explanation that Eva is still grasping for. “Who is this? Wh—Wh— _Eva_?”

The girls immediately turn to her, their eyes almost boring a hole straight through her soul. “I—I—I…this this—I mean, this—uhh…this… _this_ —is Chris,” she eventually manages to choke out, “Chris is…he’s…he’s my father’s nephew,” she says. “He’s been away…seafaring and could only now come to visit.” Eva isn’t sure if the girls are even buying anything she’s saying, but she doesn’t care, if she keeps on talking then maybe she can pretend that this whole thing is some terrible nightmare and finally be able to wake up from it. “He was mugged on his way here and luckily it was by chance that I came across him after he’d been injured.”

Eva finishes her tale and tries not to glance over at Chris who she can sense is staring right at her. Instead she keeps her eyes on the girls glancing at each other before their eyes finally settle back on her.

“Your father’s nephew?” Noora repeats. Eva can still see the suspicion shining in her eyes but she doesn’t look extraordinarily so, so Eva allows herself to exhale.

Sana is still glaring at Chris and Christina and Vilde are sharing a look, but none of them look like they’re about to go running out screaming and that was a good sign at least.

“Is he the reason you’ve been so…distant?” Noora asks.

Eva looks over to Chris before she answers. He gives her an almost imperceptible nod so Eva decides to go ahead with her fib. “I don’t want people to think…uh, I know how quickly gossip spreads in town so I didn’t want it to be such big news.”

Christina and Vilde nod in hesitant agreement, still glancing over at Chris any chance they could. Sana still hadn’t said anything with was concerning but Noora walks over to take Eva’s hand in hers, stroking the back of her hand with her thumb in a reassuring way.

“You should have told _us_ , Eva. You know you can tell us anything right?”

“I do just…” she trails off, looking at Chris whose eyes and attention were focused completely on the girls in front of him, and then at Fy in her usual position sitting at attention on the floor near the foot of the bed. “I guess I didn’t want to trouble you.”

“You’re never trouble to us, Eva, alright?” Noora says and Eva can’t help the sheepish smile that comes to her face when she nods.

“Getting back to the most important matter at hand,” Christina announces suddenly, pushing herself to her feet and rubbing at her knees painfully, “Does this mean that you’ve been spending the last week in this cottage with a hot guy in your bed? Hmm?”

The reaction is instantaneous. Eva bursts out laughing. Sana rolls her eyes and Vilde chuckles softly as Noora yells out an exasperated, “ _Christina_. Have some class, will you?”

“I’m just pointing out the obvious,” she says with a shrug.

When Eva looks over to the silent Chris, she can see that he’s relaxed somewhat. The air around him wasn’t so apprehensive though he kept his eyes locked firmly on the new occupants of the house.

“Well,” Sana starts, “We just came to make sure you were okay, and as we can see, you’re doing more than okay, so perhaps it’s time for us to take our leave and leave you two _cousins_ to your business.” Eva isn’t sure she likes the way Sana had said the word cousins but he doesn’t bring attention to it.

“Hello, I’m Christina by the way,” Christina says with a wave at Chris.

Eva looks over at Chris, trying to convey her silent question to him as she motions to her friends with her eyes. He gives a small nod.

“Girls, this is Chris,” Eva says as an introduction, since she wasn’t sure the first one came really came across very coherent, motioning to Chris. Christina approaches the bed before Eva can even think to stop her, holding her hand out as a greeting, a huge smile on her face.

“Christina,” she says. “Proprietor of the local tavern.”

Chris accepts the handshake hesitantly, though he does repeat Eve’s introduction with a soft, “Chris.”

Vilde follows Christina’s actions and holds a hand in a similar manner. Chris was obviously unused to the action and to see him accept the handshakes so awkwardly, as if he all of a sudden didn’t know exactly what to do with his hand, amused Eva.

“I’m Vilde. I make dolls,” Vilde says with a smile.

Chris doesn’t reciprocate the smile though he nods as if accepting that bit of information and tops it off with a curt, “Chris.”

Sana stops about a foot away and mimics his nod with a curt, “Sana. Pleasure.”

Noora brings up the rear when she approaches, holding a hand out like Christina and Vilde for a handshake. “Noora,” she says simply, her eyes holding his gaze. He shifts slightly when he reaches to grab her hand, with repetitive, “Chris.” Unlike Christina and Vilde though, Noora holds on for a few seconds longer before she finally relinquishes her grip and steps back.

Eva looks between Chris and the girls, weighing the thickness of the air between them and trying not to let out a nervous laugh. This was definitely not the way she envisioned this day unfolding.

But the girls bid their farewell soon enough, leaving with one last glance back at Chris and a wink in Eva’s direction. Noora spares Eva a strange look before she follows the girls out the door, but not before saying, “You don’t ever have to keep a secret from us, Eva,” just for Eva’s ear.

When they finally leave though, Eva feels her heart heavy with guilt at having to lie to her friends, but somewhat relieved that the situation was passed and that it’s just her and Chris once again.

“Your friends seem nice,” he says when she walks over to perch on the edge of the bed.

“They are,” Eva tells him. “And I trust them not to say anything to anyone.”

“Trust,” Chris says with a sad smile. “A valuable commodity to have.”

“You must have someone you trust,” Eva says.

Chris actually looks like he’s about to answer when all of a sudden the front door swings open, startling the both of them and sending the dogs leaping to their feet before Noora’s figure come hurrying in. The look on her face is stern and resolved, with a hint of anger clouded in a mist of fear, but she makes a beeline for Eva before anyone can even react. She grabs Eva firmly by the wrist and pulls her away, putting herself between the confused girl behind her and the equally confused man on the bed.

“Noora, what—”

“We have to get out of here, Eva,” Noora says, keeping her eyes locked firmly on Chris while her free hand reaches for the knife sitting on the cutting board on the table near the kitchen and pointing it at Chris who hasn’t moved an inch. “I don’t know what lies he’s been telling you, but he isn’t who he says he is.”

“Wha—Noora, calm down and listen, please,” she wriggles her wrist free from Noora’s grasp and rushes forward, plating herself firmly between Noora and Chris, arms stretches out wide.

“Eva, what are you doing? Listen to me; he isn’t who he says he is. He’s dangerous!” Noora’s eyes are wide and she glances between Eva and Chris who’s still surveying the scene unfolding with cool detached indifference.

“I _know_ who he is Noora!” she nearly yells out just to be heard over the sound of Noora’ nearly hysterical voice. “I know! And—And he’s not…He’s not dangerous, at least not to me or us. Please, you have to believe me.”

At the sight of Eva’s pleading, Noora relents, breathing hard and still clutching the knife tight in her hand. “You don’t know, Eva. He’s…He’s…”

“He’s one of the Penetrators—one of the Southern soldiers,” Eva finishes for her. “I know. I’ve known all along.”

“But…But—”

“Please, Noora. Please just trust that I know what I’m doing. Please,” Eva pleads, reaching out to grasp Noora’s hand that isn’t clutching the knife.

“But… _why_? He’s the enemy, Eva, you don’t even know what he’s capable of,” Noora looks absolutely flabbergasted by Eva’s reaction. She finally manages to tear her eyes away from Chris to look at her friend. “ _Why?_ ”

This time Eva speaks with absolutely no hesitation. “Because he’s just like _us,_ Noora. He bleeds red just like us. He hurts just like us. He’s a human being, _just like us_. The only difference is that we were born in peaceful times and he was born into war, that’s the _only_ difference between them and us.”

Eva is breathing hard by the time she finishes and Noora is looking at her like she’d never really seen her before, but slowly she lowers the knife and places it back on the table after a beat. There’s only the sound of heavy breathing inside the cottage after that. Eva can feel Chris’s eyes boring holes into the back of her head but she doesn’t break eye contact with Noora, as if willing the other girl to believe her words as much as she does the sincerity in her eyes.

Noora exhales, swallowing hard before she finally speaks. “You’re right—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have barged in like that and confronted you that way, I’m better than that. I was just…worried.”

“I know,” Eva says and steps closer to embrace Noora, who returns the hug just as eagerly.

Eventually they break contact and Eva turns to walks back over to the bed, finally meeting Chris’s eyes and the sheer perplexity she can see shining through. She takes her original seat at the edge of the mattress, as if showing Noora that she wasn’t fearful in the slightest. Noora lingers in the back for a moment before walking over, pulling one of the chairs from the table and dragging it towards the bed, leaving about a five foot distance between her and Eva.

“How do you know?” Eva asks finally. “And do the others…do they know?”

Noora shakes her head. “No, I just told them I’d left something behind and asked them to go ahead without me.” She finally looks back at Chris who’s staring at her silently.

“How did you know who I was?” Chris asks, and Eva realized that that’s the first time she’s spoken since the girls’ unexpected visit.

Noora studies him closely up and down before glancing over at Eva and turning back to look at Chris. “William’s brother is a Captain in the army—William is my fiancé—and he told me that the Southern soldiers are branded with a wolf’s head on their chest when they’re old enough to join the army, and I saw that mark on your chest when I shook your hand earlier. But I only put two and two together as we were walking away after that.”

Chris subconsciously reaches his hand up to touch the area of the mark. Eva remembers seeing that mark and noting that it seemed to be the oldest of all the injuries she could see on his body and that probably explained it. Whatever hesitation and regret she felt about taking him in that night, by that point, all of it had washed away and Eva thinks it was one of the best decisions she ever made.

“You’re very perceptive,” Chris says and Eva wonders if she’s imagining the way it sounds almost like a compliment.

Noora actually smiles at that. “I’m a school teacher. That comes in the job description.”

Chris almost smiles at that and Eve can’t help but look between Noora and Chris and feeling for the first time that maybe things were actually looking up.


	5. A Tale of Two People

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Noora doesn’t leave until late that night even though Eva was hesitant about letting her venture back into town by herself. But Noora had said that if she didn’t go home then William was bound to come looking for her, and that was the absolute last thing any of them wanted to have happen. So Eva finally relents and watches Noora’s retreating back walking into the distance until it disappears from sight; only then, with a sigh, does Eva walk back to her small cottage, locking the door behind her when she enters.

Chris is out of bed, and sitting perched on the side in just a pair of long pants, his elbows on his knees and his head bowed low.

“You shouldn’t move around too much,” Eva says, walking over and taking a seat beside him. “You’ll tear your wounds open again.”

“I shouldn’t be here,” he says without turning to look at her, keeping his head bowed low and his eyes averted. “It’s not safe for you.”

That was the last thing Eva expected him to confide; to say she was taken aback would have been an understatement. “But…But you have nowhere to go. And in your state, you wouldn’t make it far without someone seeing you and attacking you, maybe even the people who hurt you in the first place.”

That comment stills him immediately, even Eva notices.

“But if they come and they find me here, they will hurt _you_. They don’t live by the same code I do and—and I won’t have that happen. Not to you and not on my account.”

Eva scrambles for something to say, something that would make him change his mind. “At least stay until you’ve regained your strength, until you can defend yourself from an attack. I won’t live in peace knowing I let you walk out that door in your state.”

This time Chris finally looks up to meet her eyes, and it’s the most emotion she’s seen on his face since the first time they formally met.

“Why are you the way you are?” he asks, and Eva doesn’t even know what to answer to that. “You’ve obviously seen hard times— _still_ see hard times…how can you still be so… _good_? Not many people deserve the kindness you extend so freely, me least of all.”

Eva licks her lips, but keeps her eyes on him. “Because—I guess, because I choose to see the good in people, even if they’re unable to see it themselves. My mother taught me that, and it’s one of the most precious gifts she ever gave me.” Chris just continues staring at her when she finishes, his eyes (she only noticed that they were the most brilliant shade of brown mixed with green she’s ever seen) seemed like they are staring straight into her soul. “So please…just—stay,” she adds finally, hoping that the sincerity in her eyes will shine through.

Deep down, the thought of having to come home to an empty house again was something that truly caused her fear.

Eventually Chris reaches up to rub his face with a sigh, before he looks back at Eva. “You’re unlike any person I’ve ever met in my life, Eva.”

Eva forces a small smile. “That’s a good thing I hope,” but Chris doesn’t answer.

She helps him back into bed after that, pulling the blanket up over his stomach and fluffing the pillow behind his back, propping him up against the headboard. He just watches her doing all that silently, his gaze following her every move, even when she steps away to head towards the kitchen to prepare her dinner consisting of strips of leftover chicken on the fresh bread the girls had brought along earlier and the apple pie gift from the old baker. She cuts two slices of the delectable pie, and brings both plates over to the bed, offering one to Chris. He looks between Eva and the pie in her hand hesitantly. Just when Eva thought he was about to decline, he reaches up to take the plate out of her hand, placing it on his lap and staring at it apprehensively.

Eva gets her bread and a glass of milk and brings it back to the bed, taking seat on the edge near his feet. Fy and Faen suddenly appeared out of whatever hiding spot they’d been sleeping in since the girls’ unceremonious visit earlier at the smell of the chicken and as usual, Eva is too weak to say no to their sad, begging faces. She hasn’t seen her cats at all since she fed them earlier which meant that they were probably curled up asleep in her basket of freshly laundered clothes.

Eva turns to look at Chris only to find him staring blankly at the pie sitting on his lap.

“You don’t like pie?” Eva asks, taking a bite out of her bread.

Chris looks up at her at her question, his expression one of genuine curiosity. “What is it?”

That stops Eva in the middle of her chewing as she gouges whether or not he’s joking. “It’s a pie,” she says only to be met with an unchanged blank expression. “It’s a pastry baked with an apple filling. Usually it’s filled with apple but some people chose to bake it with other types of filling too.”

“A pie,” Chris repeats, looking back to stare at it fascinatedly.

“Don’t you have pie back home, or any kind of pastry or cake?” Chris’s blank look when he looks back at her tells her otherwise.

“We only eat what we need to sustain us in battle.” The monotony and the rehearsed quality in his voice when he speaks saddens Eva because she can tell that they’re words he’d gotten used to saying, but not words that were coming from his heart. She chooses not to comment on it and instead replaces the frown on her face with a small smile, turning his fork around on the plate and encouraging him to try.

“Just try it. I think you’ll really like it,” she says and keeps her eyes on him as he slowly picks up the fork with his left hand, holding it awkwardly before poking it hesitantly at the top layer crust. The crackling sound it still makes even though it’s been set out on the table since morning tells Eva that it definitely wasn’t one of the leftover pies that the baker had gifted her. The fork break in through the upper layer, skewering a decent amount of apple bits and filling before Chris pulls it apart from the rest and lifts it up to his eyes, looking at it and smelling it like it was something that he’d never come across before—because he hadn’t, Eva has to remind herself of that.

Eva continues watching but tries not to be obvious about it as he lifts it up to his mouth and takes a small hesitant bite, chewing slowly until the taste finally registers in his mind and his eyes widen in bewilderment. He chews it a few times as if trying to make sense of the taste that was assaulting his senses as Eva watches, satisfied and the smile now wide on her face.

“How is it?” she asks after giving Chris time to process what he tasted.

He turns to look at Eva and the wonder and awe on his face touches Eva deep inside her gut. “It’s…amazing,” he says.

“See?” she says with a smile. “Trust me, when it comes to pastry I would never lead you astray.” Eva doesn’t take it to heart when Chris doesn’t answer and keeps his attention on the plate that he’s lifted up in front of his face to have a closer look at.

After a moment, he offers the plate to Eva. “You have some,” he says and Eva tries not to look as delighted as she feels on the inside. She gently pushes the plate back to him.

“That’s for you. I already have my own,” she says and watches as Chris licks his lips and obliges without a word, taking his time cutting through the pie one section at a time with the side of the fork and eyeing it intently before taking a bite out of it. It takes him a long time to get through the whole pie, taking his time to savour the taste of every bite, by the time he’s almost halfway through Eva has finished with her bread and taken her own plate to have. She scooted further up the mattress until she’s seated in the middle of the foot of the bed, sitting sideways with the hem of her long white dress tucked under her legs. She realised that she hasn’t even been on her own bed in a week, sleeping either curled up awkwardly against the backrest of one of the hard wooden chairs or at the dinner table with her head resting on her crossed arms. Truthfully, Eva doesn’t mind it, but being on her comfortable mattress again does feel really good.

She savours her own slice of the pie, looking over at Chris intermittently from over her own plate, watching him focus all of his attention on the food in front of him, not even once glancing at anything else in the room. There was something nearing pleasure she saw on his face for the first time and it made her happier than she thought she would be to see it.

They finish at the same time, and Chris looks almost sad when he does but Eva assures him that there’s more if he wanted another slice. Chris looks like he was seriously considering it, but eventually declines. Eva takes the empty plate out of his hands and gathers her own dirty dishes and carries them to the kitchen, returning a moment later with a glass of milk for Chris.

“Did you enjoy it?” she asks after Chris has taken the glass off her hands, and she’s resumed her position near the foot of her bed with her legs tucked under her.

“Yes,” he says. “Thank you,” and there’s genuine emotion in his eyes when he looks at her. Eva has to force herself to look away.

“Would you like something else? I can fix you up some soup if you feel up to it.” Chris shakes his head softly to decline. “Are you tired? I can leave you to rest if you want,” she says, pushing herself up slightly.

This time Chris’s answer is immediate and without hesitance. “No,” he says immediately. “Stay, please.”

Eva immediately settles back down. “Okay,” she says with a smile.

Chris visibly relaxes.

They sit in silence for a while after that. Eva looks over the side to see her rabbits curled up on the dog and the mice curled up on the rabbits beside the side table near the wall.

“What happened to your parents?” Chris asks after a while, attracting Eva’s straying attention back to him. “I mean, you don’t have to talk about it if it’s too painful.”

“No, it’s okay,” Eva reassures him quickly. “It’s been…a while, and even though the pain never fully goes away, I’ve learned to deal with it.” She starts picking at the lint sticking to the blanket absentmindedly. “My mother became sick, even the healers didn’t know what was wrong with her. She fought bravely for a long time but eventually she just couldn’t fight anymore. My father fell into a deep depression after she passed and eventually he too died—I believe it was because of a broken heart.”

Eva hears the sound of Chris’s breathing without turning to look at him, but he’s silent and still across from her.

“My mother passed when I was a boy,” Chris says suddenly, causing Eva to finally look up at him. She wasn’t expecting him to share his own story so she listens in rapt attention as he speaks, his eyes looking down at his hands clenching and unclenching on his lap. “My father, he…he tried his best. He’s still trying, but he gets overwhelmed sometimes with everything going on around him and I don’t know what to do to help him.”

“Just be there to support him,” Eva says after Chris has stopped speaking and doesn’t seem like he’s about to continue. “Sometimes that’s the only thing that matters.”

Chris just nods but he doesn’t look up.

“What happened to you?” Eva dares to ask, changing the subject slightly, “That night, how did you come to be in that forest so far away from your home?”

Chris sticks his tongue out the corner of his mouth to lick the edge of his lips. He looks hesitant but not unwilling to answer, which Eva takes as an encouraging sign.

“I was betrayed…by my own men. I only just managed to get away on my horse and rode for days. I didn’t even know where I was going but somehow I ended up there, with you,” he finally looks at Eva when he finishes his story. “Perhaps the Fates had been on my side after all.”

Eva can feel the heat rising up to her cheeks and she tries not to smile at that but fails.

They don’t speak any more after that; there wasn’t anything left to speak about that night. Eva finds herself lowering herself down to lie on her side across the width of the bed, one hand under her cheek like a makeshift pillow, the other hand trailing invisible circles in the crease of the blanket.

She looks at Chris looking back at her. She doesn’t know long they spend just staring into each other’s eyes without saying a word. Eventually Eva can feel the visible heaviness of her eyelids, causing them to droop sleepily as she fights to keep them open. She doesn’t want to sleep, she doesn’t…deep down, she’s afraid that when she wakes up that Chris will be gone and that all this will turn out to be just a dream.

The last conscious thought she has is seeing Chris’s figure leaning over her, his body heat warming her up and yet causing a shudder to run up her spine. Then there’s the feel of the soft fabric of her blanket cocooning her like a warm embrace and she remembers muttering out a groggy ‘Thank you’ before all she sees is the dark.

The morning comes bringing the warmth of the sun rays rising over the horizon. Eva feels the sunlight on her face before she actually opens her eyes to see the daybreak. She’s still in the position she went to sleep in that night, only that there’s a blanket tucked around her and the bed is empty.

Eve feels her heart dropping into her stomach for a split second when she sits up abruptly, feeling the blood rushing to her head. But then she hears the soft, familiar voice saying, “Good morning,” from somewhere across the room, and she looks over to see Chris standing by the light of the rising sun at the window, holding onto the window sill for support with his body half turned away from the scenery to look at her.

“Good morning,” she greets, trying to get her heart to stop pounding in her chest.

“Did you sleep well?” Chris asks as he turns around fully, leaning his back against the wall, watching her intently as she rubs the sleep from her eyes, yawning wide.

Eva smiles sleepily when she looks back at him. “I did. Do _you_ sleep well?”

“I’ve slept…enough,” he says, pushing himself away from the wall and limping slowly over to one of the chairs by the dinner table. Lowering himself down to sit with a painful groan.

“Are you hungry? I still have some time before I have to leave for work. I can make you some breakfast,” Eva says, pulling the blanket off her and moving to sit on the edge of the bed with her legs hanging off, smoothing out the wrinkles in her skirt.

Chris is about to answer when there’s a sudden knock at the door that startles them both out of their thoughts.

Eva looks worriedly at Chris who doesn’t tear his eyes away from the door, as if he were able to see right through the wood to find out who’s the person on the other end. Before Eva can fully stand up, she hears the familiar voice from the other side of the door.

“Eva. It’s Noora, and I’m alone.”

Eva breathes a sigh of relief as she heads over to unbolt the door, meeting Noora’s smiling face when she pulls it open, standing there with a basket hanging off her arm.

“Good morning,” Noora greets immediately with a wide smile; her lips stained the bright red that was her signature look.

“Morning,” Eva responds. “Did you make it home safely last night?”

“I did, Eva. I told you not to worry,” she says, pushing past Eva without waiting for an invitation. Her eyes find Chris immediately when she enters, her smile never slipping when she bids him a cheery, “Good morning.”

Chris raises his eyebrows, though he reciprocates the greeting.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the visit,” Eva says hesitantly, sparing a glance outside before she closes and locks the door behind her, “But…it’s so early.”

“I know, I hope I wasn’t interrupting—” she looks between Eva and Chris with a teasing look, “—something. But I knew you were about to leave for work, so I wanted to catch you before you did.”

She places the basket on the table and opens the lid, pulling out a few containers of what seems to be food and a bundle of fabric cross tied in a neat bundle.

Eva approaches and looks at what Noora is pulling out of her basket and she can see Chris doing the same.

“I brought you some breakfast,” she says. “And I was doing a little cleaning up last night and I found some of these old clothes of William’s that I think should fit you,” she looks at Chris when she says it. “He hasn’t worn any of it in years and I don’t think he’ll miss them.”

“Why?” Eva asks, looking at Noora confusedly. “You didn’t have to go through all the trouble.”

“Eva,” Noora chides, taking her by the shoulders and staring her straight in the eyes. “You’re my friend, and whatever it is you’ve gotten yourself into, you know that I’ll be there to support you and back you up. So, believe me when I say that people will probably look a _little_ more kindly on you having a fully clothed man in your house where you live by yourself, than they would for you having a half-naked man in your house where you live by yourself.”

Neither Eva nor Chris could find any fault in Noora’s argument so they just both keep quiet.

“I won’t bother you for long, I just wanted to drop this off before you left and before William notices I’m gone, so I’ll take my leave now and leave you two to your—” she waves her hand casually in the air between them, “—whatever it is you were doing.”

“ _Noora,_ ” Eva says exasperatedly, but Noora’s already halfway out the door, chuckling and disappears behind the door swinging shut just as abruptly as she appeared.

Eva doesn’t know how to react for a long while after Noora has left; she just looks between the containers on the table and the bundle of clothes sitting innocently beside it.

“Your friends are very…peculiar,” Chris says seriously, causing Eva to chuckle though she doesn’t disagree.

“Well, I guess I don’t have to fix up breakfast after all,” she says.

There were some sausages and a variety of cheeses in the containers Noora brought along with a freshly baked vegetable pie that immediately caught Chris’s attention. Eva takes the time to explain to him the difference between this pie and the pie they’d had the night before and Chris looks just as intrigued about it as he did then.

It was the first time sitting at the table with Chris, eating, since the first time he fell into her life and Eva couldn’t help herself from glancing over periodically to just look at him taking small, intrigued bites of the sausages and cheeses and the pies she’d laid out for him. It was strange how her life in the past five years since her parents’ passing had been one that was satisfactory, for all intents and purposes. She worked, she took care of her pets and she took care of herself and once in a while she would allow herself a small treat, like the small silver chain and butterfly shaped pendant she’d fallen in love with at the jewellers. She kept her money, buying only the essentials and eventually saved enough to buy it at a special discount courtesy of the shop owner.

It is one of the few luxuries she owns and she is appreciative of everything she does have in her life: her friends and her pets and her home and the lovely town people who are always so kind to her. But sitting there across from this man whom she’d only known for seven days; a man who is in all logic, the enemy, but who is also a man who looks at her kindly and asks her how her day was and listens interestedly when she talks. The man who never makes her feel even a hint of fear even though she knows he could hurt her badly without even putting in much effort. The man who would pet her cats when she wasn’t looking and the person her cats would allow to put his hands on them. The man who’s come to mean so much to her, in such a short amount of time and the man who for the first time made her house and her family actually feel complete.

Eva doesn’t know or realize when it happened, but at some point, she’s grown used to have his presence there and having him around. Having him there to greet her in the morning and tuck her into bed at night. Eva doesn’t know when it happened, but she realizes that perhaps she’d started seeing him in a completely different light and as someone who meant…someone who meant a lot more to her than as a mere stranger.

Nothing good ever comes out of those sorts of feelings and Eva is afraid that she’d fallen too far and too quickly and from her experience, she knows that it could only end in one of two ways.

**tbc.**


	6. A Festival in a Hundred Year Old Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like with every story I write, inevitably there always is that one chapter that just somehow gets away from me, and for this story, this is it. 15K of Chriseva goodness and all the fantasy tropes I dream about but never had the opportunity or the guts to write before.

 

They fall into something of a routine after Eva starts working again and Chris is slowly but surely regaining his health and his strength. Over the next couple of days, Eva would wake up, by this point Chris had insisted that she continue sleeping across the width near the foot of the bed, where she’d slept that first time after a week of trying to find a comfortable position on the hard wooden chairs, while he’d sleep in a similar position near the headboard. It left his legs hanging off the edge but he was adamant that it wasn’t anything he couldn’t deal with. It meant that Eva would get to sleep in her own bed, while still getting her way and not allowing Chris to sleep anywhere _other_ than the bed and it still left a respectable distance between them.

Usually Chris would already be up by the time Eva awakens; he’d be staring out the window into the canopy of trees behind the cottage, or he’d be walking around the small space, looking at the few knick-knacks Eva had collected, decorating her home.

But sometimes Eva would wake up to find Chris sitting up with his back against the headboard, silently watching her while she slept. That was one thing that always left her a blushing mess, and she noticed with a hint of annoyance that her embarrassment would only cause him to grin one of his small lopsided grins that she never grew tired of seeing.

Eva would fix up breakfast for the two of them, and leave out some bread and cheese, or whenever she’d go into town and bring back pie, for Chris in case he got hungry. And then she’d leave, walking down the path away from her cottage, forcing herself to not look back and see Chris’s figure standing by the door, staring at her back as she was walking away. She tried not to smile, but fails every single time.

Nearing the end of the working week, after she’d been back at work for about four days, she reaches her cottage and notices with some confusion that the clothes she’d hung out to dry that morning was absent from the clothes line.

She enters; the question as her lips but before she can verbalize it she immediately notices all her clothes folded and stacked neatly on the dinner table and Chris standing by the sink putting away the dishes.

“Welcome back,” he greets when she enters, turning around to face her.

“Um—thank you,” Eva stutters out, looking between her clothes and Chris. “Did you take my in laundry? You really didn’t have to.”

“I needed to do something,” he said, “And it’s really nothing, compared to everything you’ve done for me this whole time.”

Eva smiles at that and places her basket aside, pulling off her red hood and unlatching the clasp, sliding it off her shoulders but before she can reach to place it over the back of the chair in front of her, Chris has walked over and taken it out of her grasp, hanging it up on the hook behind the door where she usually hung it.

Eva tries not to grin too wide, brushing a couple of free strands of hair behind her ear.

“Chris,” she starts, calling his name as she pulls a chair out and takes seat. He turns around immediately and hmms a soft inquiring sound. “Are you…are you okay—with being here? I mean, you’ve been stuck in this small cottage for almost two weeks and—and I was wondering if you were not bored?”

He walks on over and pulls out the chair across from her, looking at her intently. “Where I’m from, having time to be bored is something of a luxury,” he says as a matter-of-factly.

And Eva lets out a small disappointed _oh_ despite herself.

“Why?” he asks, after gouging her reaction. She can tell that he felt guilty about his response. “Did you want to do something?”

“No…I mean—it’s nothing important, I was just concerned that you getting tired of being stuck in doors for so long.”

It isn’t the complete truth and Eva knows Chris can tell even though she isn’t currently looking at him.

“If it’s something you want to do, then it is important,” he says, and once again Eva is left absolutely stunned by his ability to make her feel so valuable with so few words.

Eva starts picking at the wooden surface of the table in front of her with her fingernail, her eyes downcast. “It’s a…it’s nothing really, just…there’s going to be a festival—in town, to celebrate it turning a hundred this year. They’re throwing a big celebration with fireworks and games and Noora and the girls invited me to go, but I was wondering whether you’d like to come along too—you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” she adds immediately.

Eva hates the way her heart starts pounding in her chest, as if everything is riding on Chris’s answer to the question—which it truthfully really does. She really wanted to go with him. She knows there are risks and she knows danger is still lurking outside, threatening not only Chris, but her own safety as well. But on the other hand, she wants to take him out; she wants to show him the beauty of her home outside these walls. She wants to show him all the foods they have to offer and the beauty of life outside of war, because she can tell that he hasn’t seen much of it in his life.

But most of all, she wants to be there to experience all of that _with_ _him_.

“Okay,” he says suddenly and Eva isn’t paying attention that she almost misses hearing his answer. She looks up just in time to hear him say the words “I would love to go to the festival with you.”

And Eva’s smile is beaming.

The whole of the next day Eva spends in a haze, not like the haze she found herself in the day Chris first woke up after she’d carried him home; but the kind of nostalgic happiness that surrounded her like an aura. She couldn’t stop smiling at everything and anything; at the gardener watering the plants and the cooks preparing the meals for the Count and his family and the disgruntled housekeeper whose frown only deepened seeing Eva’s wide smile.

She ran into the Count only once the whole day, as he was walking out to go meet his business partners at the castle. She smiled wide and curtseyed as she was passing him and skipped off before he could even word out a greeting in return.

She’d brought along a change of clothes with her when she left that morning so she could get ready before going to the house to meet Chris and the could walk together to the festival.  It was her favourite light yellow dress with golden embroidery and a sprinkling of small white flowers cross-stitched across the hem. The bodice was snug on her upper body, the collar wide showing off most of her neck and reaching halfway across her shoulders, but flared out from the mid waist area into a long skirt that reached the ground. The sleeves were long and fitted which widened slightly at the edge where it reached her knuckles. It was one of her most fancy dresses that she only brought out for special occasions; occasions that come few and far in between in her life which is why she found herself getting more excited that she really wanted to show outright. Instead of the messy knot she usually did her hair in, she braided her long hair in a neat plait that reached down to the small of her back.

She finished getting ready just after her working hours came to an end but left the clothes she came in that day in her basket in the servants quarters.

Her heart was beating up a storm in her chest when she says goodbye to the staff as she made her way out, eager to get back to her cottage to see Chris.

Stepping out into the fresh air, the gravel road crunching under her feet, Eva takes a moment to just breathe, keeping her eyes closed and trying not to smile too widely at nothing and make everyone think that she’d lost her mind.

She reached the junction at the end of the road leading away from the Count’s mansion and was about to turn right to head back to her cottage to meet Chris when a figure in the corner of her eye caught her attention. Turning her head to look in the direction, it takes Eva an additional few seconds to realize what she’s actually looking at.

It’s Chris.

He’s dressed in the fine, loose white tunic that Noora had brought over the other day that reached down to his hip and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, with an engraved leather belt knotted off just to the left side of his stomach over a pair of fitted leather pants. Only the boots belonged to him. He’s cleaned up and combed his dark hair back off his forehead and Eva wouldn’t have been ashamed to admit that he looked really, really good.

He’s standing with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning casually against a tree across the road looking at her. Eva doesn’t think she imagined the smirk that came to his face when he notices her expression.

“I thought I was supposed to meet you at home,” Eva asks as she walks over, Chris having pushed himself off the tree he was leaning against meeting her half way.

“I wouldn’t let you walk all the way back on my account,” he says, his eyes looking her up and down. “You look…beautiful, Eva,” he says so seriously and so earnestly, causing Eva to blush three different shades of red.

Eva laughs sheepishly at the compliment. “Thank you…you too, Chris—You look really good too.”

“Thank you,” he says, with much less embarrassment that Eva was displaying. “So, are you ready?”

Eva can only nod and both begin their walk towards the town. Even from the distance they could already hear the sound of music and merriment and the boisterous laughter ringing out. Eva notices that Chris is still limping slightly beside her but he’s trying not to show it too obviously; Eva doesn’t think anyone else would even notice but she’s become so in tuned to everything _Chris_ that she would not have missed it. The bruising on his face had lessened, but it is still a nasty shade of mottled purple and yellow and the vertical and horizontal scars running across his cheekbone and his forehead are still very noticeable. But Eva walks into that town with Chris at her side with pride. She can feel the heat of people’s eyes on them from the moment they enter, but she pointedly keeps her eyes averted, looking at Chris instead. Chris on the other hand is making a very good show of not surveying his surroundings so obviously, but Eva can tell he was looking at everyone and everything that passes his eyes and analysing it critically.

Eva doesn’t know the person he was before he stumbled across her in the forest that night, but she can tell that she must have been quite a soldier, his body language shows it.

After being so long confined to the small cottage with her and her animals as his only companion, being in the presence of this many people in such an enclosed space was obviously getting to Chris. She could see the way his eyes were darting around vigilantly and the way his hand keeps reaching for an imaginary object at his side. Slowly, Eva reaches over and hesitantly wraps her hand around his wrist without startling him too much, but enough to attract his attention to her.

“Are you alright?” she asks. “We can leave if—”

“I’m alright, don’t worry. I want you to have fun tonight,” he says sincerely.

“But I don’t what you—”

“It’s not about me, it’s about you,” he says and Eva is completely mesmerized by the intensity in his eyes.

Her gaze is abruptly averted by the impact of another body barrelling into her, almost throwing her off balance. She feels the impact before she hears the voice yelling “Eva! You came!” almost into her ear.

“Yes, I came, Christina. Can you let go of me now?” she says with a laugh.

She hears the rest of the girl running up calling her name just as Christina relinquishes her grip, allowing Eva to finally turn around to face them.

“We didn’t think you were coming,” Vilde says when she approaches.

“I wasn’t going to…” she says, watching as Sana and Noora both approach, smiling. Seeing Noora reminded her of her escort standing to the side, out of the way and Eva quickly motions to him with an outstretched hand. “You girls remember Chris? My uhh—cousin.”

“Ladies,” Chris greets respectfully as he takes a step closer, giving a small bow with his hands clasped behind his back.

Vilde immediately starts giggling bashfully and Christina actually looks at him up and down with her mouth wide open. Even Sana takes a moment when she walks up to just appraise him appreciatively.

Eva can’t blame then. She herself wasn’t ashamed to admit that it took all of her will power not to stare at him so openly when she first saw him and during the entire walk over.

Only Noora keeps her wits about her, only chuckling softly when she steps up next to Eva. “You clean up really well, Chris,” she says and Eva notices the small smirk on Chris’s face after her comment.

“Thank you for the garments,” he says in response.

“Noora.”

The sound of the male voice calling Noora’s name makes Eva jump a little and she immediately looks towards Chris to see his reaction.

Chris looks unperturbed on the surface but Eva can see the way his frown deepens as the figure walks up into their small circle. Eva immediately puts herself between Chris and the newly arrived figure of William.

William comes from one of the richest families in town, the Magnussons. He was Noora’s childhood sweetheart, turned fiancé. Eva doesn’t know him all that well outside that fact, all her really knows is that Noora is completely infatuated with him and from the little interactions she’s had with him in the past, she could tell that he was too.

“Girls,” he greets when he steps up, circling an arm around Noora’s waist and pulling her close to his side.

The collective greeting in response rings out before Eva finds William’s focus on Chris standing behind her.

“William,” Noora says quickly, half turning to place her hand on his chest and motioning to Chris with her other, “This is Eva’s cousin, Chris. He recent returned from seafaring and has been staying with her for a while.”

Eva locks eyes with Noora nervously after she finishes when William doesn’t immediately avert his gaze. But after a moment, he nods and offers a hand out to Chris.

It takes Chris about the same amount of time after psyching up the other man in front of him to grasp the offered hand with a monotone,  “Chris,” to which William replies with an equally monotonous, “William.”

Eva tries not exhale in relief outright when the tension that was brewing in the air immediately dissipates as William turns his attention back to Noora and paying Chris absolutely no mind after that.

“So what do you want to do?” Christina asks the group. “The tavern’s closed today so my evening is completely free. I am going to get so drunk tonight, I thought I’d just let you all know that in advance.”

“Umm, I promised to meet Magnus in front of his father’s stall actually,” Vilde says.

“I only have a few hours free before I have to go and relieve Elias of duty. We’re splitting shifts at the shop today,” Sana says.

“No one has to ask what Noora and William will be up to come midnight,” Christina adds with a wink at the two standing embracing on the side.

“What about you, Eva? What are you and Chris going to do?” Noora asks from her comfortable position in William’s protective arms.

Eva looks at Chris who just stares back before turning her eyes back to Noora. “I think I’m just going to show Chris around the festival; all the food and the lights. He’s been on the seas for a very long time; he hasn’t seen some of these things in a while.”

“Should we meet up somewhere after and watch the fireworks together?” Vilde asks.

“Yes,” Noora says, “We should do that.”

“I’m alright with that,” Christina says. “Sana? You said you had to go back to the shop?”

“It’s fine. Elias will live if I’m a little late. I’m sure he has the boys over anyway,” Sana says.

“Eva?” Noora asks, turning to look at her.

Eva exchanges a look with Chris, who doesn’t convey any sort of protest to the suggestion. “Alright, that sounds like a great idea.”

“Well okay then,” Christina says, rubbing her hands together gleefully. “The guys better watch out. I heard they’re having a drinking contest out by the barber’s shop.” She’s already half turning when she raises a hand up to wave farewell. “See you girls later.”

And with that they all separate, heading their ways; Noora walking hand in hand with William up the street, Vilde latching onto Sana as they head in the same direction but on the opposite side, making their way towards where the old baker had set up his small stall alongside all the other little wooden pop up shops on the side of the street in either direction of the road they were standing on.

Eventually it’s only Eva and Chris left standing among the increasing amount of people milling about the festival.

The sun had begun setting in the horizon and the little candles in the cured paper lanterns were slowly being lit all along the rows of stalls from where they were standing at the entrance of the town, all the way to the other end.

Eva looks at Chris surveying the surroundings with cautious interest. “A festival is a time when everyone is allowed to open up business to sell their little homemade trinkets and home baked cakes and their knitted mittens and socks; it’s a time to make a little extra business on the side as well as socializing and having fun,” Eva tells him. The moment she started speaking, she could see him turning his full attention on her and listened to her speak with interest.

Eva turns and beckons him to walk with her as they slowly make their way up the street, watching the town’s women dressed in their fanciest clothes with their done up hair with sparkly pins and their poshest barrettes and their best jewellery, conversing and laughing with each other. Eva notices the way people’s eyes would fall on her and Chris as they pass, but she doesn’t call attention to it or point it out. She just watches their eyes out of the corner of her own and she knows that Chris can sense it too but he doesn’t react.

They stop occasionally for Eva to point out something or to explain something about what that particular seller had on display. Chris hangs on to her every word and even though he hasn’t said anything since he introduced himself to William, Eva doesn’t feel like she’s engaged in a one sided conversation. Chris looks absolutely enthralled by everything in front of him. She’d catch his gaze on her from time to time, but would pretend not to notice it even though he wasn’t being discreet in his staring.

They reach a point about one-thirds of the way through the festival when a scent catches Eva’s attention and she turns excitedly towards him; unable to explain what had gotten her so excited, she latches onto his wrist and pulls him in the direction where the scent was originating from.

The old baker greets Eva with a wide grin when he notices her approach.

“Eva,” he greets happily. “I’m glad to see you here,” he says as she steps up in front of his stall, the wooden display on his stall filled to the brim with all kinds of still hot confectionary, from pies to cakes, to baked bread in all different shapes and sizes and little custard tarts topped with a variety of fresh berries.

“Good evening, Mister Fossbakken,” Eva replies. “How is your business fairing today?”

“Very well, my dear,” he says happily. “And who is this handsome gentleman you’re with tonight?” he asks, looking at Chris at Eva’s side, who’s staring at the assortment of pastries with a look that’s a mixture of surprise and wonderment.

“This is Chris,” Eva introduces, motioning to him with a hand. “He’s my father’s nephew came to visit.”

“Good evening sir,” he greets, like with the girls earlier, with a small respectful bow and his hands clasped behind his back.

“Very polite,” the old man says in an approving tone and a small nod, “You must teach Magnus some of those manners,” he adds before he turns back to Eva. “Well, what will you be having today, my dear?” he asks, motioning to the pastries spread out in front of him with both hands.

Eva exhales once while trying to pick. She looks at Chris to ask what he wanted, but he just shrugs nonchalantly and has her pick whatever she wanted instead. In the end she settles on a few of the fruit tarts and some of the small braided breads and muffins.

Eva reaches into her small coin pouch that she had hanging off her wrist to get money she’d saved up especially for the festival as the old baker wraps up her choices, but when she moves to hand him the payment, he puts his palm gently on her hand holding out the coins, a small smile on his face as he hands the paper wrapped pastries to Chris.

“Your money is of no value here, Eva,” he says seriously though the smile never leaves his face.

“But—”

“No _but_ s, now run along you two, before I have to break out the broom to shoo your off.”

Eva frowns slightly at him before he motions with his hand, shooing her off.

“I will pay you yet, Mister Fossbakken,” she yells behind her as she’s walking away, but the man just pretends that he didn’t hear her.

“Does that happen often?” Chris asks her when they’re a good distance away.

Eva turns to look at him. “Hmm? Oh…not really, no. Mister Fossbakken is just…too kind,” she says.

“It’s not kindness that isn’t undeserving though,” he says seriously and once again Eva is left speechless.

“How do you do that?” she asks him after a while; they’re walking in step with each other watching parents and their children on the side engaging in some of the games that had been set up along the road.

“Do what?” he asks, confused.

“Say things like that—things that…things that leave me at a complete loss for words?”

“Does it?” he asks, genuinely curious. “I apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable.”

“No—no, it’s not that. You don’t make me feel uncomfortable,” she says quickly, looking him in the eye. After a beat, she continues, not breaking eye contact for even a second. “You don’t make me feel uncomfortable at all.”

Chris stares right back into her eyes and for once it doesn’t make her feel unnerved.

Until someone accidentally knocks into her and sends her stumbling into Chris’s arms. Chris’s narrowed eyes immediately looks around to find the offender as his hands hold Eva up against him by the shoulders. But before anything could happen, the man stutters out a nervous apology and bows a few times in pardon. Eva places a hand on Chris’s chest and looks up at him. “It’s okay, it was just an accident,” she tells him, but he doesn’t ease his grip immediately. He only lets go once the man’s friends have dragged him along and out of sight and he regards Eva intently.

“Are you hurt?” he asks.

Eva shakes her head with a smile. “No, I’m not hurt. Although I may have flattened our tarts,” she says with a sheepish grin.

Chris lets out an unexpected chuckle, before a small relieved smile curls at his lips. “We will survive,” he says.

And that joke, that first hint of humour is enough to put a big smile on Eva’s face. “Would you like to try one? While it’s still fresh,” she says, opening the paper wrapping and pulling out a slightly misshapen, though still intact fruit tart.

“Only if you will,” he says and Eva’s already wide smile only grows.

“Alright,” she says, handing him a small tart and taking out one for herself. She makes a show of taking a bite of hers first, and watches as Chris slowly lifts it up to his lips, smelling it strangely before he takes a bite of all the different components of it, the custard, the shell and a section of the fruits arranged on top. Eva watches the way his face just changes with each chew, from the moment the combination of flavours reach his taste buds; the way his brows furrow slightly as his eyes focus on an invisible point on the ground, his brain going through so many different thoughts at that moment and to Eva it was like watching his experience the taste of pie for the very first time.

It was a beautiful sight that she would never forget for as long as she lived.

“Do you like it?” she asks when he finishes, licking the bits of crumb left on his index finger and thumb.

“Yes,” he says earnestly.

Eva immediately holds out her own partially eaten tart to him.  “Here, you can have mine.”

“That’s okay,” he says, “You have it.”

This time Eva stands her ground. “I want you to have it. I’m not that hungry anyway, so—please. Otherwise it will just go to waste,” she turns the most pitiful look she can muster at him.

He looks like he’s about to turn her down, but he sighs and takes the tart from her hand and finishes it for her; all while Eva just looks on happily at his delight.

They continue on their walk, Chris taking the wrapped up pasty from her hands and carrying it himself even though it really didn’t weigh anything at all. Eva just smiles at him and surprisingly, he reciprocates with a gorgeous smile of his own.

They pass by one of the games stalls that were the most packed section of the festival with a crowd of people hanging around, watching excitedly at whatever was taking place at the center. It piques Eva’s curiosity though Chris looks as disinterested as he usual does.

“What’s happening?” she asks one of the men standing in the rear looking over the heads of the people in front of him at whatever was happening a few feet away.

“Archery contest,” he says. “Two shillings to enter and you can win a stuffed bear. Besides one fellow who made the vicinity of the bullseyes once, no one’s won anything of worth,” he says with a boisterous laugh just as the crowd starts heading towards a cheer before immediately stopping and detouring into a disappointed groan. “Lots of people have won lots of grass though,” he says.

Eva gets up onto her tip toes to try and see over the sea of heads in front of her, but gives up after two tries. Instead she motions to Chris with a nod and both of them set off down the street where they were originally headed.

They pass by a small parting of the crowd where the last participant is making his disgraced exit when a voice in the center of the crowd starts calling out, “Sir! Sir!” Neither of them pay him any mind until he calls out, “You sir, with the beautiful lady in the yellow dress.”

This time Chris actually looks over to the source of the voice and Eva looks down to confirm the colour of her own dress. Chris, still holding the paper wrapped pastries in one hand has his arms crossed over his chest nonchalantly and his face devoid of expression but his eye focused intently on the man behind the barrier motioning for him to come closer.

“Win a prize for your gorgeous lady?” he says with a salesmen grin, holding up a fluffy white bear temptingly. “Only two shillings for five tries sir, one shilling for two,” he says. “Such a beautiful lady deserves a beautiful prize,” he adds to the cheers of people around, yelling out their support.

“No, thank you,” Chris says simply, with a shake of his head.

Eva turns to look at him. “If you want to try, I have spare shil—”

“I won’t take your money, Eva,” he says, and his voice is the most stern she’s ever heard it and it stuns her for a moment, though she doesn’t take it to heart. She just nods.

Chris doesn’t look back at the man as they turn to walk off, a disappointed groan passing through the crowd, until the man yells out again, this time with much more desperation.

“Sir! Sir! My lady, wait—How about this?” he says when Eva and Chris both stop and Chris reluctantly turns back to look at him with an annoyed sigh. “I will waive the fee, and give you two free tries? Same rules, same prize! The people here want entertainment tonight, and I will have them all entertained.”

The crowd cheers loudly.

Eva looks at Chris but he doesn’t look back, he’s staring intently at the man and at the bow on the counter in front of him and the bear in his hand and he looks like he’s actually considering it.

“Would you like the bear?” he asks, but he isn’t looking at her so it takes her a few seconds to realize that he was actually asking a question of her.

“Um, I don’t want you to do something you don’t want to do,” she says.

He finally turns to look at her. “I don’t not want to do it,” he says and it takes Eva a moment to decipher what he’d said.

With an encouraging smile, she says, “Yes, I would love to have the bear,” and that was about as much motivation as he needed. He immediately uncrosses his arms and hands the pastries to Eva and makes his way through the parting in the now loudly cheering crowd, some people reaching over to pat him on the shoulder encouragingly as he passed. Eva trails after him as he walks over to the grinning man holding the bear in one hand and the bow in the other hand, handing it to Chris without word as he moves to step aside.

“The arrows, sir,” he motions to the five arrows lined up neatly on the counter with a wave of his hand. “You get two free attempts, but if you wish to finish up your remaining arrows, you will need to pay the one shilling. Hit any part on the target you will win this—” he shows off one of the small yellow bears he was holding, “—But if you hit the bullseye, you will win your lady friend this beautiful white bear—” he holds a much larger snow white bear, “—made from the finest materials the kingdom has to offer. I have only three of them with me, so will you count yourself among one of the lucky ones tonight?” he asks, looking at Eva then back at Chris with a teasing look.

The crowd in the back is in hysterics by this point, whooping and cheering and looking on in absolute excitement.

Chris on the other hand could not look any more relaxed as he takes the bow in his hand and runs his palm across the clean surface, though marred by bumps and scratches from being used by people with no experience or respect for the weapon; his eyes focused and intense.

The five hay stuffed targets are arranged in an even row about a hundred yards away across the empty lost and fixed onto the side of the opposite building, lanterns set up all around illuminating the area completely like it was day instead of night. The wall and the ground surrounding was littered with wayward arrows, some embedded into the walls and the surrounding trees, even sticking haphazardly out of the grass.

Eva comes to stand a few feet beside him, giving him room to prepare. He doesn’t look at her but she knows that he senses her there.

The crowd is still cheering at this point though they’re focused intently on the lone figure standing right at the center; Eva thinks that even they could sense that this wasn’t going to be like all the other tries before.

Chris tears his gaze away from assessing bow to look at the arrows laid out before him; he picks one up and holds it in front of him, checking the tip of the arrowhead with a critical eye all the way down to the feathers at the end. Eva watches him closely; she’s never seen him look this concentrated before and she immediately notices the moment he snaps out of his thoughts because the look in his eyes change to something she’s never seen before.

She sees him shifting the bow into his right hand, taking a stance with his right shoulder facing the target, his left foot slightly behind, firmly planted into the ground.

The crowd stops cheering when Chris moves and everyone watches closely as his hand holding the arrow moves to place it back on the counter.

But he doesn’t place the arrow back down; instead he picks up two additional arrows and nocks all three at once.

The wave of murmurs wash over the crowd, some whispering excitedly and a few scoffs ringing out from people who were rolling their eyes at what he was doing.

But Chris pays them no mind, he adjusts the arrows on the bow, all three at the same time, holding them between his four fingers and adjusting the distance between them. His eyes moving from the arrows to the targets laid up ahead. He drops the bow sideways, leaning his upper body slightly to the right, resting the arrows on the side like a crossbow and levels his stance, adjusting the arrow one final time before he pulls back the bowstring with more ease than Eva has ever witnessed. His head tilted slightly to the side and his eyes unblinking.

The crowd is at an absolute standstill; you could have heard a pin drop because the silence was so thick, everyone leaning in close to have a better look.

Eva doesn’t look at the people or at the target or at the arrows; she looks right at Chris, unable to tear her eyes away even for a second and thinking that she’s never seen a more awe inspiring or beautiful sight before in her life.

At the very last moment, it was like time had slowed down to a crawl; the people around were moving like in slow-motion and the sounds muffled like it was coming from underwater; at the very _last_ moment, Chris turns his eyes to look at Eva, not looking at the arrows or the target, not looking at anyone or anything else but meeting her gaze from across the short distance. In his eyes, in that moment, Eva has never felt more coveted in her life.

Then he releases the bowstring, not even blinking as the arrows shoot out of his bow, cutting through the air faster than the speed of sound and embedding in the exact center of the three middle targets before the thudding sound finally reaches the enraptured crowd.

For a moment, no one moves, no one breathes, no one even thinks of making a sound. It was as if everyone was stuck in that moment paused in time.

When time finally resumes, Eva couldn’t have begun to prepare herself for the explosion of _noise._ Not sound, just white static noise that comes at her like a tempest from all sides. Commotion started raging all around them, with people hollering and cheering and the sound of high pitched whistling above everything else. People were reaching over to pat Chris on the shoulder congratulatory and heaping praises on to him, even the owner of the archery range was left gobsmacked, but clapping his hand in bewilderment and awe.

But Chris’s focus is only on her, as if the only validation he needed was from her. So Eva smiles at him, wide and bright, clapping her hands excitedly and hoping she was expressing just how proud she was and how ecstatic she was feeling on the inside.

Chris reciprocates her smile.

Eva has seen his smile before, at least Eva has seen a glimpse of it; she’s seen a hint of what could have been a gorgeous smile, but always held back, always _pulled_ back at the very last second. It never quite showed fully or reached his eyes and it was always noticeably controlled and noticeably practiced.

But this smile…this smile was heartfelt and genuine. It didn’t quite reach his eyes but it brightened up his whole face. It made his eyes sparkle and caused little wrinkles to crease up at the corner of his eyes and Eva doesn’t think she’s ever seen a more beautiful sight.

The crowd starts chanting then; “Do it again. Do it again. Do it again,” in unison, emphasizing every word to the beat of some silent music, pumping their fists in the air as punctuation to every word and looking expectantly at Chris. Excitable chattering and murmurings were washing across the crowd that had grown innumerably by this point. The only breathing space was the area around her and Chris; the crowd making a semi-circle barrier around him, giving him room to work.

Eva looks at the target then, seeing the three arrows right in the middle of the red bullseye in the three targets right in the middle. She realizes that Chris would have to hit the remaining two set up on either side of the wall with the last two arrows left before him.

Even the proprietor of the archery range had stepped further to the side, giving Chris more room.

Eva watches as he runs his hand over the body of the bow again before he reaches down to grab the two remaining arrow—the crowd’s cheering intensifies when he does—and he nocks both just as he’d done before, spreading the distance between the two farther than he had the three arrows before that.

He doesn’t take as long this time to set up his shot; his eyes find Eva almost immediately after he draws the bowstring the same way he did the previous time. But this time, he tears his eyes away from Eva just before he releases the string, but the split second before the tips of his fingers unfurl, Eva notices the slight furrow of his brows and the grimace that comes to his face; she hears rather than sees the small hitch in his breath in that instant but then there’s only the roaring of the crowd as the arrows shoot forwards, streaking through the air, cutting the wind and embedding with a thud into the back of the targets in the distance.

The crowd is dead silent for a moment as their eyes focus to see where the shots had landed.

The fourth arrow found the red center of the bullseye right in the middle of the target, but the fifth one ended up just barely missing it, embedding in the furthest most outer rim on the mark.

There were only a handful of disappointed groans Eva could hear before the crowd erupted into another round of excited cheers and loud applause and some of the sounds of disbelief coming from people grabbing at their hats in shock.

Chris finally lowers the bow with a noticeable exhale, his eyes staring out at the targets before him. Eva think she can see a hint of frustrated disappointment shining in his eyes but it’s quickly masked as the crowd reaches forwards to pat him on the shoulder, reaching their hands out to shake his as he slowly turns around to face Eva.

Eva steps forwards, the fingers of both hands intertwined in front of her lips, a wide grin pulling at the corner of her mouth. She looks up at Chris who tears his eyes away from the crowd though his hand is still held out for people to grasp on to in a congratulatory handshake. He isn’t smiling, but Eva thinks she’s beaming enough for the both of them.

The proprietor comes up to stand in front of them, his hands still vigorously clapping and his whole body language more excited for someone who has just lost four of his first place prizes.

Eva nudges Chris when the man comes up, and Chris turns to face him at her beckoning.

“Fantastic job, sir! Absolutely fantastic! I have never in my life seen as much skill as I have just witnessed with my own two eyes,” he says, the tone of his voice reaching a higher pitch than what he’d started with. “But alas, I must apologize; I only have three of these bears,” he says, putting the white bear he was holding on the counter in front of them and pulling out two more from somewhere underneath the makeshift counter before them.

Chris reaches for the one the man had been holding, picking it up with one hand and feeling the tufts of fur rubbing against his palm. The bear has the softest snow white fur, black button eyes and a bow tie made from soft red silk. After a moment, Chris turns to look at the man staring almost worriedly at him. “I only need the one,” he says, running a thumb across the midsection of the bear before he turns to the side and holds it out to Eva.

Eva looks at the bear and looks at Chris, feeling her heart skipping a beat and her breath catching inside her chest. Slowly she reaches out to take the offered bear with both hands, her eyes never leaving Chris’s intense gaze that stays locked on her and a smile wide on his face.

The cheering around had slowed down but the crowd was still muttering excitedly among themselves.

The man looks between Chris and Eva for a moment, a slightly surprised look on his face. “Fair as well as skilled,” he says to Eva. “You found yourself quite a man, my lady,” a teasing yet not insincere grin on his face.

Eva can’t tear her eyes away from Chris and she finds herself replying before the actual words can even register in her mind. “I did,” she says. Chris expression remains unchanged but there was something in the look in his eyes that shifted, but Eva couldn’t decipher what it meant.

“But you have shown us such amazing skill and entertained us so much tonight—” the crowd cheers at that, “—I cannot possibly let you leave with just one prize.” On cue, he pulls out four of the small yellow bears and places them on the counter and puts away the two white ones.

Chris finally looks away from Eva to stare at the sudden influx of yellow bears in his vicinity.

“What need would I have for so many dolls?” he asks incredulously.

The man shrugs indifferently. “Give them to your siblings or your lady’s friends,” he says.

Eva imagines bringing along all the dolls and having to explain to Noora and the girls how she obtained them all. She really wants to. She wants to tell them how excited she was and how proud she felt and how moved she felt on the inside. She wants to shout it from the rooftops or at anyone who would listen because she’s never experienced this kind of feeling before in her life. He wanted to tell at least Noora. She _has_ to.

Eva looks back at Chris who’s still staring at the heap of dolls sitting in front of him strangely. Suddenly she notices his gaze shifting to the side, looking at the crowd still gathered behind them as if something had caught his attention. She follows his gaze and sees a little girl in a dark green dress and two little blonde pigtails on either side of her head standing with the side of her head resting against her mother thigh, one arm around her mother’s leg and sucking on the tip of her thumb on her other hand, staring at the array of dolls on the table with a sparkle in her eye.

Eva turns back to look at Chris, watching him look away and without a word picking up one of the bears and turning slightly to face the little girl, whose eyes follow the trajectory of the bear in Chris’s hand. He holds it out to her and Eva sees the way her eyes shift from looking at the bear, trailing up Chris’s arm to look at his face. She looks up at her mother who smiles down at her and beckons her to go forwards with a nod and an encouraging nudge.

Slowly the little girl lets go of her mother’s leg and takes short hesitant steps closer, her hands clasped nervously behind her back and her eyes looking at the ground sheepishly.

Chris bends down slightly to hold out the doll so that it’s in her line of sight. Slowly a small hand hesitantly reaches out to grab the offered doll; the moment her fingers make contact with the furry foot she grabs hold and runs back to burrow her face in her mother’s skirt.

Eva hears the mother chiding her daughter softly. “What do you say to the nice man?”

Eva can hear the muffled sound of a sheepish ‘thank you’ being said into the material of the woman’s skirt but the little girl doesn’t turn around.

“That’s okay,” Chris says to the woman, who smiles widely at him with a grateful, “Thank you.”

When he turns back to Eva, she knows that he can see the feeling of pride shining off her like a beacon. He just frowns slightly and what looks like the telltale signs of a blush starts creeping on his cheeks but she doesn’t comment on it.

Much of the crowd has dispersed by this point, still muttering excitedly about what they’d just witnessed. Only a few stragglers remain and a young boy with his father who’s staring at Chris with barely concealed awe. Eva sees the boy turning to his father and the sound of his voice excitedly chiming, “Father, may I try?”

He skips up the spot beside Chris, leaning his elbows on the counter and pointedly not looking in Chris and Eva’s direction but Eva can see the way his eyes keep glancing surreptitiously to where Chris is standing stoic looking at one of the yellow dolls he’s turning around in his hand. Eva can’t hold back a smile.

The boy’s big, burly, bearded father walks up immediately after and hands the proprietor the two shilling payment before the man reaches under the counter and brings out a considerably smaller bow.

Eva looks at the boy’s father as he steps up to Chris; Chris can obviously sense his presence but pays it no heed. The man’s clothes are fine and the jewellery he has around his neck, hanging down to brush across the top of his belly every time he moves is expensive and extravagant, but his face his kindly and his smile is noticeable from behind his big bushy beard.

“Young man,” he says, his voice a deep baritone. Chris finally turns to the man though at no point was he unaware of the man’s presence beside him. “Would you mind giving my son some pointers? I’m afraid this old man knows his way better around quill and a roll of parchment than a bow and arrow,” he says with a guttural laugh.

Eva looks over at Chris and catches the surprised look on his face before it’s wiped away as he nods slowly.

The gentlemen steps back to allow Chris room to approach his son who’s looking at absolutely everything else other than the person slowly approaching him.

Chris doesn’t pause for small talk which makes Eva smile, he immediately jumps into it by asking the boy which was his dominant hand, causing the boy to look confusedly at his own two hands.

“If you were mimicking shooting a bow, which would be the hand you’d use to pull the string?” Chris explains calmly, his tone professional and his explanation simple and not in a put down sort of way.

The boy pretends to draw an invisible bowstring, holding the empty air with his left hand and pulling his right hand back to his ear.

Chris nods, picking up the smaller bow and handing it to the boy, taking him by the shoulders gently and adjusting his position so his entire front is facing the right, away from the target before telling him to move his upper body slightly to the left, so that his head is slightly turned, facing his left shoulder; opposite of the stance Chris had been in not a few minutes ago.

“Plant your right foot behind you firmly,” he instructs. “People think you put your weight on your left foot to guide the arrow, but you put your weight on your right foot behind to control the direction you want to send your arrow in. The stability of your shot depends on how strong your stance is and if you’re shooting with your right hand, your right foot dictates all of that.” The boy is listening in rapt attention; hanging on to every word Chris is saying; looking at his foot behind him and digging his heel into the ground intentionally. “The second most important thing is to keep your forearm and your elbow as aligned with the arrow from the moment your draw the string to the moment you release it. That will ensure that the arrow cuts through the air in a straight line.”

Eva can’t tear her eyes away from Chris; out of the corner of her eyes, in place of the adults that had been occupying the space before, she notices a small crowd of kids and teenagers slowly gathering around. Peeking on their tip toes to get a better look over each other, all silent listening to what Chris was saying. Chris doesn’t act like he notices his new audience but Eva already knows he does, especially because she notices him speaking a little louder so that the children in the back could hear him as well.

“And thirdly, always keep your left arm slightly bent at the elbow,” he says, grabbing one of the new arrows the proprietor had set out, bringing it up to his face to assess one of them from tip to end. The tip of his index finger trails carefully over the sharpened arrowhead before he holds out the end for the boy to see. “All arrows have one part of the feather coloured or somehow always slightly different than the rest, and that is so that people can tell which is the right way to shoot it. If you shoot with the coloured feather facing inward, it will collide with the bow and the arrow will not fly in the direction you intend it to,” he explains.

Eva is struck by just how meticulous he is in his explanation and how simple he made it all sound. She could see his level of skill from his ability but seeing him explain it to the young boy and making it clear enough for all the other kids around to understand just the same, Eva could see just how passionate he really was about the whole thing. It was an amazing thing to behold, watching someone talking about something they obviously cared about a lot.

He hands the boy the arrow his was holding and gestures for him to make his first attempt.

The boy steels himself and grabs the arrow, nocking it the way he Chris had explained and no doubt the way he’d seen Chris do a moment before. He exhales as he brings his elbow up to his shoulder level, adjusting the arrow between his fingers and with one last look at Chris, who nods, he draws back the string.

Eva can see the effort he was putting into it because his whole body starts to shake slightly from the effort before he releases the string and everyone watches the arrow stumble through the air for a distance before it clatters to the grass.

Chris doesn’t look at the direction of the arrow or the target; he keeps his eyes on the boy the whole time, his arms crossed over his chest appraisingly. The boy sighs disappointedly and looks back to his father who just nods encouragingly at him. He turns to look at Chris after that.

“There are three key points shooting to shooting a bow and arrow successfully,” he says immediately, his expression unchanged. “Skill, strength and practice; these are three things that you don’t obtain overnight so don’t be discouraged if you don’t hit anything in your first few tries, or even in your first few hundred tries.”

“How long did it take you to get that good?” the boy asks interestedly, speaking for the first time.

Chris swallows as he regards the boy, licking his lips absentmindedly. “My whole life,” he says, causing the boy’s eyes to widen slightly. “But if it’s something that interests you, then it won’t be a goal you feel like you’re _working_ towards, it will be something that gives you pleasure and pride,” he says, before picking up another arrow and handing it to the boy. “Again.”

This time, Eva notices the way his body doesn’t shake as much from the effort. His brows are furrowed in concentration and his eyes determined.  When he releases the arrow, it flies through the air with much more power and precision, before clattering to the grass the same way but a few feet further than his first try.

“You closed your eyes the moment you release the arrow,” Chris says, walking around to stand on the boys’ right. “It’s a natural human reaction to having something passing so close to your face, but it’s a habit you need to break. You can’t shoot a target if you can’t see it.”

The boy nods.

“Again,” Chris says.

The boy obliges obediently.

With each shot, Eva can already see where he was improving; his father stands to the side looking proudly at his son being so focused on what he was doing. With each miss, Chris explain to him what he did wrong and with the next shot, his arrow would fly slightly further and straighter, getting closer and close to the target. The fifth arrow leaves the counter and five more takes its place as the boy’s father nods to the owner from the back.

On the eighth try, the arrow actually comes within two feet of the target but bounces off the broadside of the wall and clatters to the ground. The boy turns back, beaming at his father who is clapping his hand excitedly. The ninth try follows a similar trajectory but come the tenth try; on the tenth try Eva suddenly had a gut feeling that this wasn’t going to be like all the other tries, because the look on the boy’s face is even more focused and even more determined, his father is wringing his hands on the side and for the first time since they began, Chris eyes follow the arrow as it leaves the bow, whizzing through the air and embedding into the wall, slicing through the outer edges of the target in the middle; it was so close that even from a distance they could see the dust and little bits of hay flying around from the impact.

The boy beams, but not as widely as his father, who rushes forward and proudly embraces him in a firm hug.

“Father, did you see?” he yells excitedly, turning around to circle his arms around his father’s neck.

“I did son, and I am so very proud!” he says, embracing his son once again but his eyes move to look at Chris. “Thank you,” he says, and he sounds almost choked up when he says it.

Chris just nods but Eva can see the glint of pride in his own eyes.

The boy lets go of his father’s neck and suddenly rushes forwards and embraces Chris around the waist.

Chris is obviously completely taken aback by the act and Eva sees the moment his brain starts working again as he reaches down to pat the boy awkwardly on the shoulder.

“Good job,” he says. The moment the boy lets go he takes an involuntary step back.

The boy immediately turns to his father with an excitedly expression. “Father, may I go again?” he asks and the man just nods vigorously.

“But, we will let the kind mister and his lady friend go along their way to enjoy the rest of festival,” the man says. The boy groans disappointedly but doesn’t argue.

The gentleman approaches Chris who has moved back to Eva’s side; Eva had collected the remaining dolls, holding them by the little string behind their necks in each finger, the snow white bear held in a firm hug against her chest in her other hand.

“Young man,” he says as he steps up. “Forgive me; I do not know your name.”

Chris pauses for a moment before he says, “Chris.”

“Mister Chris,” the man amends. “And my lady? – he looks over at Eva who introduces herself before he turns back to face Chris— “Thank you for taking the time to teach my son, I know you did not have to and I know that you did not have to be so thorough. But I appreciate you spending your time to entertain the interest of a young boy. He barely listens to me on the best days and I have never seen him so obedient before, especially of a stranger, so thank you.”

Chris doesn’t look like he really knows how to react, but he says a simple, “You’re welcome,” with a small bow.

“Well, I will not take up any more of your time—I apologize, young lady, for infringing on your moment.”

Eva chuckles awkwardly a little. “It’s alright sir, it was time well spent for the both of them,” she says.

The man bids them both farewell, though Eva notices the way he grabs Chris by the arm for a moment and whispers something into his ear just as she turns to head back towards the middle of the street, watching the sparse crowd left milling around, as everyone else have all slowly made their way towards the top of the hill just on the outskirts of the town at end of the festival to watch the fireworks on the other field on the other side that were due at any time.

Eva turns when she hears footsteps and finds Chris walking up to her, the expression on his face thoughtful.

“What did he want?” she asks when he approaches.

“Hmm?” Chris hums questioningly.

“The man, I saw him saying something to you before we left.”

Chris doesn’t answer immediately. “Nothing, he just wanted to thank me again.”

Eva doesn’t think that’s the truth, but she doesn’t push, instead she beckons him towards the edge of town where the crowd of people gathering could already been seen even from that distance. Only a sparse amount of shops had been set up on the way out, a few selling drinks and confectionaries and others with little trinkets and ornaments on display.

It takes some effort to find her friends among the sea of people crowding around, looking for the best vantage point to see the fireworks about to shoot up into the nights sky, but eventually she hears the sound of Christina’s excited voice bellowing her name from higher up the hill, near a cluster of trees overlooking the bright lights of the town below.

Eva jogs the last couple of meters, her precious white bear still clutched close to her chest and the three little yellow bears bopping up as down as she ran, Chris trailing behind at a much more relaxed pace. She lost sight of him for a while in the rush of people making their way in the same direction but eventually catches sight of him again walking up to her. She thinks she saw him wince slightly as he walked but she couldn’t be certain because Vilde’s shocked gasp and her exclamation of— “Oh my god, _Eva_!” – immediately invades her senses as she gapes openly at all the bears in her hold.

Christina looks equally stunned when she notices what Vilde is looking at. “Did you buy them or something?” she asks in disbelief. Her eyes are glassy and she’s swaying slightly on her feet making it clear that she did keep her promise of getting drunk off her behind with the lads.

Eva’s smile is wide when she slows to the trot, slightly out of breath and her bangs dishevelled in front of her face. She takes the two small yellow bears and hands one each to Vilde and Christina. “No, Chris won them in the archery contest.”

“All of them?” Vilde says with a gasp, looking at the small bear in her hand.

Eva is about to answer, her mouth already opening when she hears Noora’s voice calling her name from somewhere in her periphery. Chris had also just joined them, walking up to the group silently as Noora, William, Sana and Magnus walk up from somewhere lower down the hill, each holding two paper cups of something.

Eva turns to look at Noora and notices a similar yellow bear hanging from one of her fingers as her hands hold two small cups of beverages.

Eva’s mouths an O when she recalls what the man at the archery stall had said. “William was the person who won the doll!” Eva states as Noora comes to stand at her side, holding out one of the cups to her and leaning over to hand the other one to Chris who accepts it hesitantly.

Noora looks closely at the white bear in her arms and her eyes widened in realization. “You two must have been the cause of the commotion we heard earlier,” she says, looking over at William who just stepped up and taking one of the cups he was offering to her. “Remember that William, the sound we could hear from about ten stalls over? That was Chris and Eva,” she says, motioning to the white bear in Eva’s arms. “Chris hit a bullseye,” she says impressed, “and you said that all the bows were rigged to prevent anyone from winning first prize,” she says in jest, jabbing William in the side with her elbow.

“That was just your ego talking,” Christina says with a laugh.

William looks absolutely insulted at the insinuation. But before he can say anything, Noora turns to Eva with a teasing grin and moves as if to whisper into her ear but her words are loud enough for everyone in the immediate vicinity to hear. “It took one word for William to cave, Eva. You should have been there. I barely had time to turn around before William was throwing money at the owner and shooting off arrows like the wall had personally offended him.”

“He challenged me, man to man!” William interrupts quickly, causing Noora to laugh. “Chris understands, right?” he says, looking to Chris for support.

Chris looks uncomfortable by the attention that was all of a sudden focused on him, so Eva steps in quickly.

“Actually Chris and I were walking away. The man begged him to try by giving him two free attempts,” Eva says with a shrug and a small half smile directed at William who looks back at her with such betrayal in his face.

“Two tries?” Noora asks with a tilt of her head. “You have four dolls? I know no one else won one because the six of us have been together since before we got here.”

Eva all of a sudden remembers the last yellow bear hanging from her finger and hands it to Sana with a smile. Sana looks confused for a moment but quickly returns her smile as she looks at the little bear in her hand interestedly. “Umm, it’s a long story,” she says, looking over at Chris, who just returns her gaze.

Noora looks between Eva and Chris without a word for a second, before turning to the sulking William with a brusque, “Keep Chris company for a while,” she says, then addresses Eva and the rest of the girls gathered around. “We need to have a girl talk,” she says. “Magnus, you stay with the boys.”

Magnus who looks completely lost in the whole situation just nods obediently.

Grabbing Eva by the hand, she motions for Sana, Christina and Vilde towards the small secluded spot behind the trees, away from the opening at the foot off the small hill where the fireworks were the most noticeable.

“And William,” she says finally, looking at her fiancée seriously, “Play nice.”

Eva just shrugs as she looks back to meet Chris’s confused eyes. She sees William slowly turning to face Chris, Magnus all of a sudden more preoccupied with the liquid in the cup in his hand, and the uncertainty in his voice when he says; “So…nice weather we’re having isn’t it…?”

Eva doesn’t find out whether or not Chris finds the weather agreeable because she loses sight of them behind the canopy of trees. Once they’re out of range of crowd gathered in the distance, only then does Noora stop and release the grip she has on Eva’s hand.

“I sense that something monumental happened besides Chris just hitting a bullseye,” Noora says.

“What happened?” Vilde asks, sharing an equally confused look with Christina and Sana.

Eva takes a deep breath and tries to keep her face from showing too much of the excitement and the adrenaline she was feeling on the inside.

“He didn’t just hit the bullseye,” Eva says, “He hit all four bullseyes.”

“Sorry?” Sana asks, adjusting her head as if it would somehow allow herself to hear better.

“You said the owner gave him two shots? How could he hit four bullseyes if he only had two shots?” Vilde asks.

“Actually he hit all five of the targets, only four were in the bullseye.”

All the girls shared a look with each other while seeming like they were doing a mental calculation of the logic of Eva’s explanation.

“Hang on,” Noora says, holding up a hand. “Why don’t you start from the beginning?”

Eva exhales but not out of negativity. She just didn’t know where to begin to explain.

“Umm, it’s uh—like I said, Chris wasn’t going to go ahead with it, because he said he wouldn’t take my money to pay the two shillings. But the owner gave him two attempts for free because he was desperate to keep the crowd excited I think.”

Noora nods. “Okay, we understand that part.”

Eva takes a deep breath and continues. “His first attempt, he shot three arrows at the same time,” she pauses to let the words sink in; waiting for the moment of realization or for the first person to say that she’s lying.

“You’re lying,” Christina says sceptically. “I mean…that—I mean that’s just not possible…right?”

“I would have thought the same thing as you,” Eva says, “If I didn’t see it with my own two eyes.”

“And then what happened?” Sana asks.

“All three arrows hit the bullseyes,” Eva says. “His second shot, she used the last two arrows. One hit the bullseye and the other just hit the target.”

“But you only have one first place prize?” Vilde says, looking at the white bear still clutched close to her chest.

“Because he said he only wanted one prize. The other prizes the owner insisted he take to give to friends,” she says, before adding, “He gave one to a little girl who was standing there.”

The group lapses into silence after Eva finishes.

“Wow,” is all Noora can say, looking completely taken aback.

“You believe me right?” Eva asks, all of a sudden feeling very self-conscious.

Noora looks at her immediately, all traces of surprise gone from her face. She smiles and pulls Eva into a hug. “Of course we do, Eva. It’s just…quite shocking.”

“What did you say your cousin did again?” Sana asks.

“Seafarer,” Eva says, though she’s disappointed in herself that she had to think about it for a beat longer than she would have liked.

“Must be some kind of ship he’s on to be that good with a bow and arrow,” Sana says and Eva’s not sure she likes the glint in Sana’s eyes when she looks at her. But then the girl smiles, her dimples peeking out displaying blatant faux innocence and the suspicious glint Eva saw in her eyes immediately disappears.

“So…is this for us?” Vilde says, holding up the yellow bear to Eva.

“Yes, of course. That’s why I gave it to you,” Eva says and the smile on Vilde’s face is positively beaming, especially for someone who makes dolls for a living. But Eva thinks that it has less to do with the gift and more to do with the thought behind it.

“It’s so cute!” Vilde coo’s hugging it to her chest.

“You make dolls for a living,” Sana says with a pointed look.

“Yes, but—but there’s a difference in the dolls you make yourself and the dolls that are given as a gift,” Vilde explains and for the first time Sana has no words to counter back.

“I’m not one for dolls,” Christina says, “But this one looks ferocious. He will look good hanging from my wall,” Christina says, slightly slurred. “I shall call him Casper.”

“Ask Noora what she calls hers,” Sana whispers to Eva.

Eva chuckles. “What do you call yours, Noora?” she asks.

Noora has a cheeky glint in her eyes when she says, “Wilhelm.”

They rejoin the boys soon after, walking out from behind the trees just as the gathered crowd starts getting to their feet, looking expectantly out at the still empty horizon.

They approach the boys just in time to hear William’s voice saying, “—then she insulted my parents and my upbringing and called me a walking cliché. That’s when I knew she was the one.”

Noora clears her throat when they approach. William turns around and smiles widely at the sight of her. Vilde walks over to curl up into Magnus’s side and lifts up the little yellow bear to show him. Sana and Christina both stand off to the side, with Christina hanging off of a scowling Sana and resting her head on her shoulder.

Eva approaches Chris and he doesn’t seem like he’s unfurled his arms crossed in front of him at any point during his time with William. He looks almost relieved when he notices her walking up and Eva smiles at his reaction.

“Did you have your girl talk?” he asks.

Eva wrinkles her nose at him at the comment and smiles. “Yes we did,” she says as she comes to stand beside him, both of them turning around to stare out at the wide open field spread out in front at the foot of the hill and the people rushing around in the darkness in the distance settling up the fireworks display.

“Are you happy with your gift?” he asks again and this time Eva turns to gaze up at him, looking at the silhouette outline of his face against the light of the half-moon hanging in the sky.

“It’s the most precious thing anyone has ever given me,” she says earnestly and Chris smiles.

The excited chattering starts up again as they look out at the field again, watching the people working in the darkness rushing off towards cover as the sparks from the fireworks’ fuse start burning shorter.

A hushed whisper that quickly descends into silence washes over the crowd as they watch intently, waiting for the sight of the fireworks to erupt into the night sky.

Eva feels the heat of someone’s eyes on her and turns to look at Chris’s gaze trained fixatedly on her.

“Is there something on my face?” she asks self-consciously, reaches up to touch her cheek.

“No,” Chris says. “Just…” he trails off, swallowing noticeably. “Just…tonight—”

Whatever Chris intended to say, Eva didn’t get to find out because there’s a series of high pitched screeching sounds before balls of light starts shooting into the skies, illuminating the grassy field and the forest canopy spread out around them. Everyone’s eyes follow the ascension of the small ball of light until it reaches the peak height in the sky and with an enormous boom that shakes the ground they’re standing on, explodes into a shower of multi-coloured lights.

Eva was looking at the firework explosion when the first boom erupted and she felt Chris involuntarily jump beside her. She didn’t think much of it when she turned to look at him, but the sight that meets her eyes is one she never would have expected. His eyes are wide, and he’s staring at the ground as if he was wishing it would suddenly open up and swallow him. One hand covering his ear almost unconsciously and his breathing was coming out hitched and uneven.

“Chris?” Eva’s smile immediately drops and she reaches up subconsciously to take his hand in hers. “Chris, are you okay?” she focuses her attention entirely on him, paying no heed to the display of lights illuminating the dark sky.

Chris doesn’t look at her but it looks like he’s about to answer when a second explosion makes him jump again. Eva gets close to him, one hand already clutching his hand holding the paper package at his side, and her other hand still holding the white doll, reaching to circle around his side as she pulls him close. Even from that closeness of their bodies Eva can already feel his heart pounding in his chest through her own. She looks around at the crowd completely enraptured by the display going on above them. Without word, she circles her arm fully around his side, tucking herself into his side and turning both of them around, half dragging him in the direction she and Noora had left for earlier. Chris obliges without putting up any sort of resistance.

Eva notices Noora glancing at them as they’re walking away but she doesn’t have time to explain. At that moment, the priority was just Chris.

They walk further into the trees, away from the crowd until it’s only the two of them and they’re far enough into the forest behind them that the sound of the third boom is muffled slightly, but it still manages to startle Chris.

Eva keeps her eyes on Chris the whole time; he doesn’t meet her gaze and his face his ashen and she can see the beads of sweat sticking to his forehead. Eventually they step into the clearing, away from the sounds of the crowd cheering every time the colours in the sky opened up like a blazing flower.

She stops near a large tree in the opening, and half pushes Chris onto the ground into a sitting position, leaning his back against the trunk as she settles close beside him and takes his hand in hers, the other reaching across his back.

“It’s okay,” she says, rubbing soothing circular motions on his back, her hand gripping his doing the same with her thumb against the back of his hand.

He doesn’t make eye contact with her even once, his eyes gazing blankly at a spot only he could see; she could still feel his heart pounding inside his chest and his breathing was still uneven.

She doesn’t know how long they sit there; she’s whispering comforting words into his ear, resting her cheek against his shoulder, while the sound of fireworks could still be heard in the distance. Eventually she feels his heartbeat slowing down and he starts shifting in his seat beside her. Only then does she turn out to look at him, finally finding his eyes on her; though they’re glassy and slightly damp.

“How are you feeling?” she asks without stopping her hand from massaging up and down the length of his back.

He just sits there silently, catching his breath, his eyes unblinking where they’re trained on her. He looks away to stare at the ground, the look on his face unreadable though the closest thing Eva can think to describe it would be _shame_.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers without meeting her eyes.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” she tells him, urging him to meet her gaze as she lowers her head down to look into his downcast eyes. “Okay? Absolutely _nothing_.”

Chris doesn’t answer or even look up to meet her eyes. So instead she reaches down to grasp his chin with her thumb and index finger lifting his head to look at her.

His eyes are wet; it’s the first thing she notices and her heart almost breaks.

“Everyone has something that’s too much for them to deal with sometimes and there’s nothing wrong with that,” she says. “Maybe it’s the loud noises, maybe it’s the explosion of light or just the crowd of people around. There’s _nothing_ wrong with that,” she explains, placing emphasis on the last few words and keeping Chris’s gaze as she wills him to believe her.

He doesn’t say anything, so instead she reaches across his shoulder with one hand and pulls him into a hug, holding him tight against her chest in a firm embrace. Pleased, she feels his arms reaching around her torso and latching on, burrowing his face in the crook of her neck.

“It’s okay,” she whispers to him over and over again while continuing to massage his back gently with the palm of her hand.

The fireworks display have ended by this point and in the distance she can hear the sound of the crowd slowly dispersing, but she doesn’t move; she just continues sitting there whispering into his ear and rubbing circles into his back.

All of a sudden the snapping sound of a dry twig catches her attention. It must have been telling about Chris’s situation that he didn’t seem to notice the intrusion at all.

Eva looks up to see Noora walking cautiously into the clearing, her mouth frowning and her eyes concerned.

Eva lifts a hand up to halt her, shaking her head slightly to tell her that it’s okay and to not come closer.

Noora stops immediately and the look in her eyes when she looks at Chris is one of sympathy. She looks at Eva and motions towards where the group is undoubtedly waiting with a small nudge of her chin. Eva just shakes her head a little, mouthing ‘it’s okay’ and hoping that Noora understands what she mean.

Noora looks hesitant for a moment before he reluctantly nods, pointing to herself then to Eva and mouthing ‘I’ll come tomorrow.”

Eva just nods. There was nothing she could really say to that.

Noora leaves with one last concerned glimpse back and Eva turns her attention back to Chris still curled up against her. His heart is no longer pounding in his chest and his breathing is even, which she takes as a good sign at least, but Chris doesn’t move so she stays still, holding him comfortingly in her arms.

Eventually Chris shifts and eases out of the embrace, and Eva finds the loss of the body heat jarring but she doesn’t fully let go, holding onto his shoulders as he leans to rest his back and his head against the tree, his eyes closed in deep concentration.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Eva asks, moving in a little closer and placing a hand on his knee. Chris shakes his head in a negative and his squeezes his eyes shut. “Okay,” Eva says. “You don’t have to.”

She just sits there in silence watching him trying to get his breathing under control.

“It’s the explosions,” he says suddenly, but Eva was already looking straight at him so his voice comes as less of a shock. “It sounds just like…just like, _bombs_ and cannon fire; the sound and the heat and the vibrations in the earth when it goes off. It was—it was too familiar,” he says. Finally he opens his eyes but he isn’t looking at Eva, he’s looking at a spot in the sky above them, as if dredging up memories of a past he’d sooner forget. “I’ve seen too many people die that way and it’s a horrible way to go,” he says. He lapses into silence after that and Eva doesn’t even know what to say to that.

“But you’re not in a war, not here, not with me,” she says. “Here…you’re safe.”

Chris doesn’t answer but from the look in his eye Eva can tell that he doesn’t even really understand the meaning of that word. She wonders if even she truly does.

“I’m sorry about making you miss the fireworks,” he says and Eva holds a hand up before he can even think of continuing.

“It wasn’t about the fireworks,” she explains. “It wasn’t about the festival or the food or the people; it was about enjoying it with _you_ and I did that immensely tonight.” Chris doesn’t say anything so Eva adds. “What just happened, it doesn’t take away from that at all.”

She doesn’t move, she doesn’t nudge him or say anything else. She allows him to gather his thoughts and work whatever negative emotion he was feeling out of his system.

“Do you want to go home?” she asks after watching him for a few moments to make sure that he’s really calmed down.

Finally Chris opens his eyes to look at her and with an almost imperceptible nod, he lets out a soft, “Yes.”

Eva gets to her feet and waits patiently as Chris pushes himself up, wincing slightly when he straightens up, causing Eva to remember that he’d be favouring his injured left side all night, but especially after the archery contest that evening. “Are you alright?”

Chris just nods and Eva decides not to push the issue until they get home. Without word, she sidles up beside him, sliding her arm around his waist and allowing him to rest his arm across her shoulders.

And so they begin their slow trek home.

The town is almost deserted when they enter, only a few remaining people walking past and the business owners slowly cleaning up shop. Eva decides not to make a show of them walking through the town even if there aren’t that many people left. Instead she turns into one of the alleyways that lead into the dense forest behind the town. It would take them a little longer to make their way home, but at least there wouldn’t be anyone around to make a spectacle of them. It was a route that only Eva really knew, because she used to take it to get back home on the days when she didn’t want to run into people.

Chris doesn’t say anything for the whole walk home and Eva allows him that peace; just having him by her side gives her the companionship she so desires even when no words are exchanged between them.

Eventually they step out of the underbrush onto the familiar gravel road and continue on towards where Eva’s small cottage is waiting for them at the end of the path.

Fy could probably sense that something wasn’t right before they even stepped through the door because the moment they enter, Eva can already see the brown dog standing at the ready, her ear levelled and her tail tucked. She follows closely when Eva leads Chris over to the bed after locking the door and sits him down on the edge, taking seat beside him without even one removing the grip she had around him. Fy comes to Chris’s right side and very gently places a paw on his knee, whining softly.

Eva smiles and reaches over to pat her on the head because Chris was still rather out of it and didn’t seem to notice the pooch’s worry. “It’s okay, Fy, Chris is just a little upset right now,” she says. “You’re such a good girl.”

Hearing Eva’s voice talking to the dog gently seems to snap Chris out of the haze he found himself stuck in. He finally blinks and looks at the dog staring back up at him. He reaches over slowly to scratch her below the neck causing her leg to start shaking uncontrollably.

“How are you feeling?” Eva asks, rubbing her open palm up and down Chris’s back, calling his attention to her.

He turns, though his eyes are still tired looking and his spirit seems dampened, he spares her a small smile. “Better,” he says.

“That’s good,” Eva says, finally letting go of his waist. She lowers herself down to a crouch in front of him and reaches to undo his boots.

Chris grabs her hand as she’s unbuckling the first clasp and pulls her hand up to his lap. “Eva, you don’t have to do that.”

Eva just smiles at him and pats his hand with her other. “I know. I don’t _have_ to, but I want to. Just relax, okay. Let me take care of this—let me take care of you.”

Chris still looks hesitant but he doesn’t argue when Eva slides her hand out of his grasp and finishes unbuckling his boot and pulls it off. Doing the same with the other one before she stands up, motioning to him to take off his belt as she pulls back the covers of the bed and fluffs up the pillow. She pushes him back down slowly into a lying down position and makes sure both his legs are on the bed before she tucks the blanket around him snugly.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” she asks with a smile playing at her lips.

As she straightens up and rolls up the sleeves of her dress. She’s mid roll when Chris reached up and firmly grasps her by the wrist, not in an aggressive manner but she looks up to him staring at her.

“Please stay,” he says, almost in a whisper.

Eva looks at him just as intently before kicking off her own shoes and taking seat on the edge of the mattress, as Chris moves back to make room for her, until his back is against the wall behind him, slowly lowering herself into a reclining position mirroring Chris. Chris on his left side, his head cushioned on one end of the pillow and Eva on her right occupying the other end, her hand tucked under her cheek, facing each other from the barely one foot of distance between them.

Eva looks straight into his eyes; looking at the way the greenish outer ring of his eyes almost bleeds into the light brown center. Neither of them break eye contact nor move an inch in a long while, until Eva can see the way Chris’s eyes are slowly drooping and he keeps forcing them back open.

It isn’t until she reaches over, cupping his cheek with the palm of her hand, whispering a soft, “Sleep,” does he finally succumb to the darkness.

Eva watches him for a while after his breathing has evened out and he’s fallen asleep, feeling her own eyelid starting to close. She forces them open one last time to look at Chris, to memorize every detail of his face to memory, only then does she allow sleep to consume her.

**tbc.**


	7. A Once Upon A Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tips of their noses brush up against each other and Eva can feel the heat of Chris breath as he exhales against her chin. She wants to close her eyes, she wants to look away, but she also wants to keep her eyes open so that she won’t miss even a second of this moment.
> 
> His lips are so close to hers, she can feel the softness of them when they inadvertently brush against her bottom lip.
> 
> His lips are so close. He’s so close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eva wakes up a while before Chris even begins to stir, contemplating whether or not to ask the Count for the day off to take care of him. She doesn’t really want to leave him alone after what happened that night.

She’s up and moving around, trying to make as little noise she can until she hears a sound coming from somewhere on the bed; turning around to see that Fy had jumped onto the mattress and was in the process of settling herself down in a comfortable heap near Chris’s leg, resting her head on his knee. The snow white bear sitting on the side table, watching over the scene like a furry protector. Eva still couldn’t wrap her mind completely over everything that happened that night, especially after the way it ended. It felt like she didn’t really have the time to process it all.

Chris’s skill with the bow and the kindness he displayed to the little girl and the young boy; the way he was so eager to share how knowledge and to share it so freely and the way it seemed so important to him to win that bear _for her_ , not the fact that he won it all and in such an amazing way. All of that kind of got buried under everything that happened during the fireworks but now that everything had finally settled, Eva feels like she can finally find time to appreciate everything that had taken place and the fact that it was the most fun she’s ever had since the last time she’d gone to a festival with her parents.

There’s a soft, barely noticeable knock at the door. It was so soft and Eva was so lost in her own thoughts that she is unsure whether she’d just imagined it until she hears it again. Wiping her hand on the front of her dress, she makes her way to the door, opening it slightly and peeking out, to be met by Noora’s smiling person standing on her doorstep.

“Good morning,” Noora says, in a slightly more hushed tone that she was used to. “I hope I didn’t disturb you.”

Eva shakes her head and opens the door a little wider to allow Noora entrance. “You didn’t, but Chris is still sleeping. I don’t want to wake him.”

Noora nods in understanding, walking in and glancing over to the bed when the still figure is curled up under the bundle of blankets and the elder dog snoring softly near his leg.

“What happened last night?” Noora asks as she takes a seat at the table and watches as Eva does the same on the opposite end.

“I don’t know,” she says truthfully. “I think it has something to do with the explosions. It affected him really badly. I’ve never seen him lose control like that, not even after I found him almost bleeding to death in the forest.”

Noora looks thoughtful as she glances back to Chris. “I think I’ve read about this before, in one of the textbooks,” she explains. “It’s called—uh, post-traumatic stress if I’m not mistaken. It’s common with people who have been through war or any kind of a traumatic event.”

Eva ponders Noora’s words intently, allowing her eyes to wander towards Chris who is still lost in the throes of sleep.

“Is there a cure—for something like that?” Eva asks.

Noora hmms thoughtfully before she answers. “I don’t know. I…I don’t think so. I think it’s just something you have to work through when it happens and something you learn to deal with. Has this happened to him before last night?”

“No,” Eva says. “Last night was the first time, and I think it really upset him to be so vulnerable in front of me.”

“That’s a natural reaction though, for anyone. I couldn’t imagine William ever allowing himself to live it down if it happened to him in front of me. But it’s not Chris’s fault. It’s not something that can be controlled. Sometimes things just affect every person differently, especially a person who’s lived the kind of life he has. I couldn’t even begin to imagine.”

Eva nods.

“What did you tell the others?”

“I just said I thought I dropped Wilhelm in the forest when we went to talk and that you and Chris went back because you forgot to feed your animals,” Noora says. “I’m positive that Sana suspects that something is amiss, she was staring pointedly at Wilhelm in my hand but she didn’t bring it up.”

Eva runs a finger through her hair. “Should we tell the others? Sana and the girls I mean. I don’t like keeping a secret from them, like I never wanted to keep it a secret from you,” Eva says. “I was really relieved when you figured it out.”

Noora smiles confidently at the comment though her face turns serious again almost in an instant. “I do think we should tell the others, but…let’s just see how this turns out first, maybe in the next couple of days.”

Eva nods in agreement.

“By the way, the latest talk of the town is about how some mysterious, handsome stranger blew into town last night and took the archery range owner everything he had, including his wife.”

Eva laughs out loud at that but quickly tries to quell the sound. “That’s not what happened _at all_.”

“I know,” Noora says equally as amused. “But you know how rumour goes around this quaint, lacklustre little town where nothing ever happens.”

“I wouldn’t say nothing,” Eva says, causing Noora to chuckle. They immediately quiet down when Eva senses movement coming from the bed just as Fy’s head perks up from where it’s been resting comfortably on Chris’s knee.

“I think Chris is waking up,” she says, smothering the remnants of the laugh and getting to her feet, Noora following suit immediately after.

“Well I think that’s my cue to leave,” she says. “Would you like me to tell the Count that you won’t be coming in today? Should I make up an excuse?”

Eva nearly breathes a sigh of relief. “Yes please. You’re a lifesaver, Noora,” she says, causing Noora to grin.

“Just—uh, take care of him, but take care of yourself too Eva, okay? Promise me.”

“I promise,” Eva says easily and moves in to hug her closest friend. Noora returns the hug easily.

Once Noora has left, Eva closes the door behind her, leaning to rest her back against the door frame for a moment to just breathe before she takes soft soundless steps over to the bed, lowering herself down as to not shake the mattress and lies back down on her side, facing Chris’s still slumbering form.

His eyes remain closed but Eve can see his eyeballs moving under his closed lids and the way his breathing comes out more measured and intentional. She watches him stir slowly, shifting around a little in place and reaching one hand up to scrub at his face.

Eva keeps watching him as his eyes slowly crack open, his pupils contracting to adjust to the brightness of the room, his gaze unfocused and bleary. After a beat, his gaze finally finds Eva and he smiles.

Eva has never seen a more gorgeous sight.

“Good morning,” she whispers.

Chris swallows once and takes his time to answer, flicking his tongue out to lick his lips before he verbalises a hoarse: “Good morning,” in response.

“Did you sleep well?” Eva asks as she tucks her palm under her cheek and adjusts her head to better rest on the small section of the pillow they were sharing.

Chris exhales once, blinking slowly. “I had a dream,” he says.

“Hmm? What about?” Eva asks, interested.

Chris looks at Eva for a moment, just gazing at her, staring straight into her eyes like he was looking right into her very soul. “I don’t remember,” he says, and Eva can tell that he isn’t being truthful, but as usual she doesn’t push the subject.

“Noora just stopped by,” she says, “And she’ll let the Count know that I’m not coming into work today.”

That grabs Chris’s attention immediately and she sees the spark of recognition and guilt flashing through his eyes before his whole face just shuts down. “Sorry,” he says, looking down at Fy still curled up at the foot of the bed looking at them curiously. “You don’t have to stay home for me.”

Eva’s free hand twitches from where it’s lying flat on the mattress in front of her before she hesitantly reaches over the way she’d done just that night, laying the palm of her hand on the side of Chris’s face, against his cheek. His skin is warm to the touch and softer than she would have expected for the feel of the skin of a man. Her fingers play around with the edge of his cheek bone, up the side of his eye and tracing the line of his eyebrow. Her fingers barely brushed over his skin and the feel of it is so unfamiliar in her hand. She’s touched Noora’s face many times before, as well as Christina and Vilde and Sana’s; she had even touched William’s face once when Noora had talked him into being her mule for a new skin lotion she’d purchased. But touching Chris’s skin, touching his face; feeling the warmth of his body heat under her fingers and the way he never once looked away from staring straight into her eyes, it feels different. Somehow, it feels like Eva is touching something untouchable, something she shouldn’t even have put her hands on in the first place but at the same time, it just feels so right.

Being in that moment with Chris; the feel of his skin under her finger and the intensity of his gaze staring straight into hers; the presence of his body so close to her and the vibration of his heartbeat that she can feel even from this distance; the comfort it afforded her and the refuge it gave her from the hardship of life and the feeling like time has just completely stopped. All of that, it just feels so right.

Chris moves then, grabbing Eva’s hand on his cheek in a firm grasp but not removing it from where it lay. Instead he holds it there in his own hand, brushing her knuckles with his thumb as he shifts a little to rest higher on the pillow.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks.

Eva smiles a small smile. “I’m thinking…” she starts, “I’m thinking—that, you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met,” she says.

Chris spares a small smile. “You must not meet that many people,” he says, his tone teasing.

Eva doesn’t answer immediately, though her smile stays on her face, it turns somewhat bittersweet when she says, “I don’t.”

Chris’s smile falters immediately but he looks more thoughtful than anything else as he continues regarding her with his eyes.

“ _You’re_ the most amazing person I’ve ever met, Eva,” Chris says after a moment.

Eva mimics his tone of jest when she repeats the words he just said to her. “ _You_ must not meet that many people.”

Chris relinquishes the grip he has on her hand before reaching over and with the gentlest touch, brushes the back of his hand across her cheek; tucking a wayward lock of hair behind her ear with a finger; his eyes never once looking away before he says with the utmost seriousness, “I do.”

His answer stills Eva immediately though neither of them moves to pull away from their position.

They continue lying there, facing each other, gazing into each other’s eyes. The moment hangs thick in the air. Chris’s fingers are still playing with a lock of hair at the base of Eva’s neck, causing a shudder to run through her body when he brushes against a particularly sensitive spot where her neck meets her shoulder.

Chris moves suddenly, shifting a little closer until their noses are barely an inch apart. He’s removed his hand from the side of her face and reached down to grasp her hand, bring it down to rest on the mattress between them; weaving his fingers through hers and grabbing on like he never wants to let go. Eva latches on just as firmly.

She doesn’t dare blink or even breathe; she can’t do anything other than forcing herself to inhale and exhale with her eyes still locked firmly onto Chris’s just as he leans in a little, resting his forehead against hers. Eva has never been this close to another human being in her life, and the experience is both unnerving and a little scary. She can feel her heart pounding in her chest in unison with the pounding of Chris’s heart in his so close to her own. She’s terrified, but at the same time, there is nowhere else she wanted to be more.

The tips of their noses brush up against each other and Eva can feel the heat of Chris breath as he exhales against her chin. She wants to close her eyes, she wants to look away, but she also wants to keep her eyes open so that she won’t miss even a second of this moment.

His lips are so close to hers, she can feel the softness of them when they inadvertently brush against her bottom lip.

His lips are so close. He’s so close.

He’s the most beautiful person she has ever laid eyes on.

Eva wants this so bad.

Nothing in her life has ever felt so right.

Their lips are so close—

—and then there’s a loud crash somewhere in the cottage and the scrambling sound of claws desperately trying to latch onto a flat surface.

The moment immediately fizzles away into nothing, sending Eva and Chris scrambling into a sitting position and Fy leaping off the bed, looking for the source of the noise.

They look up just in time to catch, Maribelle, Eva’s large grey tabby tumbling from the top level of her bookshelf where she had just been scrambling to try and get back onto, landing on the floor next to a mess of books and broken figurines on two paws and her face, straightening up immediately after and just standing there in ashamed stunned silence for the next few second. Eventually she trots off somewhere to hide and lick her bruised pride.

Eva and Chris both just stare at the now empty spot before turning back to look at each other. Eva is the first one to break, sputtering before she breaks into uncontrollable laughter. Chris looks at her for an additional few seconds before he too bursts out into laughter; both of them falling back onto the bed, lying there facing the ceiling as they allow the wave of laughter to subside.

When the laughter eventually dies down, they continue lying there on their backs, shoulders periodically touching. Eva reaches up to wipe away the tears of laughter from her eyes before she turns back to look at Chris to find him smiling to himself. He turns to face her when he feels the heat of her gaze on him.

Eva doesn’t say anything; she just reaches across his stomach to grab his hand that’s resting on his front, holding it tight in her grip and Chris latches on just as firmly.

They say nothing when they avert their eyes, but the silence in that moment is more than enough.

Eva doesn’t remember falling asleep, but the next moment she feels as if she’s emerging from the depths of a cold, dark lake and opens her eyes to the brightness of the cottage almost blinding her sleep muddled eyes. The spot next to her on the bed is empty. She reaches across with her arm to feel the spot where Chris’s body had been, finding it cold to the touch, but this time, Eva’s immediate thought isn’t one of fear; somehow, she just knows that he’s there in the house with her; she can sense his presence there without even having to turn around to look at him.

When she eventually does, she finds him sitting on the floor next to the door, one leg stretched out in front of him and the other bent at the knee, propping up a piece of parchment. The fingers on his right hand is stained by the charcoal he’s holding while he’s using the unstained part of his palm to rub the top of Fy’s head sitting obediently beside him. Faen is sitting a few feet away looking on at the scene longingly and suspiciously at the same time.

The dog’s ears perk up when they notice Eva sitting up which draw’s Chris’s attention to her.

“Good afternoon,” he says. “Did you sleep well?”

Eva smiles at the question. “I did,” she says. “I had a dream.”

Chris smiles at her answer but plays along. “About what?”

Eva looks at him, tilting her head slightly to the side. “I dreamt…I dreamt that I found an injured man in the forest and took him home to care for him,” she says, straightening up. “I guess I must be dreaming still.”

“Are you sure it’s not a nightmare instead?” he asks, his mouth still curved into a smile though his eyes are serious.

Eva blinks once but without breaking eye contact. “The nightmare—that…” she licks her lips. “The nightmare must have been before that moment.”

Chris doesn’t answer. He rolls up the parchment in his lap and puts it away with the charcoal on the table beside the door and pushes himself to his feet, brushing his hand on the side of his trousers as he walks over to the bed and takes seat on the edge of it.

He leans forward slightly, looking at Eva intently. “My life—it has been one unending nightmare after another… _until_ that moment. Then it felt like I finally… _woke up_. I finally was able to see life as it should be not as I have been living it until that point; always afraid, always angry, never just—relaxed or content. Never happy. I don’t think I ever really knew what that word even meant.

“But you showed me what it meant. Most importantly, you made me _understand_ what it meant. You made me understand what it meant to have friends who have your back, who you trust to have your back always. You showed me many things that I’ve never experienced before and many more things that I’d forgotten through the years. Even in the short time we’ve known each other, Eva, you’ve made me want to be a better version of myself and that’s one dream I’d long since given up.

“I care about you, Eva, more than I have ever cared about another person in my life.”

Eva keeps silent through Chris’s entire speech. The sincerity in his eyes when he spoke was utterly mesmerizing and Eva found herself unable to look away. Even after he finishes Eva can’t seem to find her voice to answer or to give any kind of coherent response. She just blinks and stares, blinks and stares in rapid succession, feeling as if her heart had jumped into her throat. Never in her life had she expected to ever hear those words being said to her, being said _about_ her. To have someone look at her the way William looks Noora; the way Jonas looks as Ingrid, the way she looks at another person with their mother and their father living their lives as a happy family and having something that he knows she will never have herself.

Eva opens her mouth and wills herself to find the words. “I have never felt for someone the feelings that I feel for you,” she says, clutching at her heart with one hand. “You’ve made me…” she trails off, “You made me… _feel_ , in ways I never thought I could again. Ever since you came into my life, you’ve made it feel more like a life that’s worth waking up in the morning for. Despite what I’ve been through, I don’t think I have a terrible life; I have my animals and I have my friends and I have my home, but ever since you came into it, you’ve made it feel complete, even though I never realized that anything had been missing before.”

Eva feels her eyes blurring with tears at this point. It was an odd sensation and one that she wasn’t accustomed to anymore. She cried for weeks after her mother died and even more after her father followed her. She stopped crying after that point because she no longer had tears left to shed.

The teardrop is cold when it trickles down the side of her cheek, but is stopped from dripping down her chin by Chris reaching over to brush it away with the back of his finger. Eva drops her gaze though her hand reaches up to hold onto his hand cupping her cheek gently.

She senses Chris leaning down and feels his forehead brushing against hers but she keeps her gaze averted. Her thumb brushing the back of his hand is the only movement she has the strength for. She doesn’t move when he leans in closer, his chin brushing against hers and the feel of his cool lips planting a soft kiss on her cheek. It’s brief and chaste but one of the most beautiful things she’s ever experienced. He withdraws his hand from her cheek, sliding it gently out of her hold and reaches across her shoulders and back to pull her into firm embrace, holding her in his strong arms, close to his chest, securely and comfortably and Eva has never felt safer than in his arms in that moment when time is at a complete standstill.

She doesn’t know how long they remain in that embrace, just holding onto each other, holding each other upright; her face buried in Chris’s neck and she can smell the fair whiff of the soap Noora used to wash her and William’s clothes, mixed in with traces of Chris’s own musky scent. She’s the one who pulls out of the embrace first. His grip loosens the moment hers does and Eva notes with a level of contentment that he’s just as hesitant as she was to release his hold completely.

“Tell me about your home,” Eva says to break the silence that ensues. This time she doesn’t feel the needs to add ‘if you want to’ because she knows that with Chris, she doesn’t have to.

Chris looks down at his hand now resting on Eva’s on the mattress; he hasn’t made eye contact since the broke the hug but somehow his gaze just drops, either at the question, or at the memories he currently seems to be lost in inside his own mind.

“We weren’t always known as the war nation,” he starts suddenly, his eyes finding Eva’s almost immediately after, much to her relief. “A long time ago we were a nation of miners and colliers, and like you and your fishery and the nations in the east and west with their exports; we mined coal and our precious jewels and we traded our goods just like everyone else, and all was fine. But we soon discovered that our lands did not just produce coal and gems; the miners found out that our lands were also rich with iron ore which we quickly began to mine, and soon after that, rumours began to spread that we were forging steel and weapons from our find and that we were secretly amassing an army to orchestrate a coup to overthrow the other kingdoms and force the country to bow to our rule.

“One by one, all the nations stopped trading with us and none of our people could go anywhere without hearing hushed whisperings and people calling us war mongers and traitors and killers. Eventually, that’s what we became. It is not a fact that anyone in the South takes lightly, but we were attacked; first with words and cold indifference, and then with weapons. So we retaliated and we have been retaliating ever since. Somewhere along the way, we as a nation just kind of forgot who we used to be.”

Eva is silent when Chris finishes. “I’m sorry,” she says, because it’s the only thing she can think to say.

“Don’t be,” Chris says immediately. “What happened to us was wrong, but that was a long time ago; everything we’ve done, all the atrocities we committed since then, that has all been on us. Don’t misunderstand, Eva, we may have been the innocent party at the start of everything, but we didn’t stay that way for long,” he says, looking Eva straight in the eye. “The stories you’ve been told, they may have been an exaggeration, but it doesn’t change the fact that at the heart of it all, we are all killers. We kill our enemies in battle without mercy, we kill our allies without batting an eye…we kill our own people through mistreatment and neglect.

“The South…it’s a very beautiful nation but at the heart of everything, it’s an ugly place desolated by oppression and controlled by fear instilled from birth by ruthless people in power. The other nations may fear us and hate us, but no one loathes us as much as we loathe ourselves.”

Eva can only force herself to inhale and exhale after that. All the horror stories she’d been told about the Southern nation since she was a child; none of it came even close to hearing the truth about it from a person who lived it.

“That…that mark,” she says before she can stop herself. Chris doesn’t look at her though his hand subconsciously reaches to touch the area just below his collarbone. “How old were you…when…?”

Chris exhales ones and licks his lips. “Twelve,” he says and Eva tries not to visibly inhale. “Usually they take boys from the age of fourteen; old enough to hold a sword and young enough to be moulded, not just physically, but mentally and emotionally as well. They’re put through rigorous training for months—or for however long it would take the trainers to realize whether or not you will be of benefit to the army. Those who make it are branded with the Wolf Head,” he says, swallowing hard. His gaze distant and glassy, as if he was talking to Eva in that little cottage, but his consciousness had been transported somewhere else entirely. “Those who do not…they’re sent to work the mines.”

Eva’s mind tries to make sense of everything she’s hearing, but it’s hard. “When you said ‘through neglect’, you mean—”

Chris doesn’t wait for her to finish her question before he nods. “We lose more people in the mines each year than we do in battle; most of the children.”

Eva doesn’t know how to even begin to process everything she’s hearing.

“What about the girls? Are they sent to war too?”

Chris shakes his head, though his gaze is painted thick with shame. “The women forge our weapons and our armour. Just like the boys, they’re trained young. Those who pass the training are sent to the forges, and those who don’t…they…they…” Chris trails off shamefully. Eva reaches over to hold his hand and though his face doesn’t show whether or not he realized her action, the small squeeze he gives her hand tells Eva that he did and that he appreciates it. “The girls who fail to make it to the forges are sent to the soldier’s barracks to—to…”

Chris doesn’t have to finish the words for Eva to understand the implication. She pulls his hand onto her lap and reaches with her free hand to cup his face. “It’s okay, you don’t have to say it,” she says.

This time Chris finally looks up to meet her eyes and his gaze is so broken and ashamed that Eva can feel her heart breaking. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” she tells him. “What you just told me, what—all of that, it so terrible it’s beyond my comprehension, _but_ —but don’t…just— _you_ , Chris, you’re proof that not everyone in the South is bad. I have heard terrible stories about your nation and its people, but since the first time we met, you’ve slowly dispelled every bad notion I ever had. You’re one of the kindest, gentlest, most amazing people I’ve ever met, and that quality didn’t just come out of nowhere; it’s been there this whole time and it just shows me that no matter what terrible thing you went through—and all of it is absolutely horrible—that people are born good and it takes a lot to burn the goodness out of them, if they ever really succeeded at it. So…don’t just give up hope on your people, some of them might surprise you and when that time comes, you’ll see that there are still good people in this world, even if it might not seem that way at first glance.”

Chris allows Eva’s words to sink in. “I did think that there was no good people left in the world, that there was nothing left to fight for; that humanity is naught and the people who live in this world are inevitably born to die,” Chris says, his gaze boring a hole straight through Eva’s soul. “I was prepared to die for a cause I didn’t believe in and a homeland I no longer loved. I woke up each morning with no expectation to see the sun set at the end of the day, but somehow I always did. I thought that there was nothing left worth fighting for in this world—until I met you.” His gaze is intense and penetrating and yet so full of emotion and humanity and soul that Eva can’t bring herself to look away or even blink. “I look forward to getting up each day to see the sun rise, knowing in my heart that you will soon rise with it; knowing that it will be another day that I’ll be able to look at your face and hear your voice and be blessed to even get to share the same space as you. These past few weeks being in this cottage have been some of the best days I have ever experienced, and it’s all because of you, Eva, and I don’t think I would ever be able to tell you just how much that means to me.”

“You don’t have to,” Eva says quickly, “Because it means just as much to me. Having you here, having you around; knowing that I wouldn’t just be coming home to an empty house. I love my animals, they’re my family, and I don’t think I would have survived without them by my side, but it’s nice to come home to someone to greet me when I step through the door, to ask me how my day was and to make me feel better when I’m down. It’s nice having someone to talk to and someone to talk with, and your company and your care and your niceness shows me that it’s okay to let someone in. That it’s okay to let someone see the real you because sometimes, people can be surprising, and no one has surprised me more than you.”

Chris smiles a little at that. “I would say the same about you,” he says.

Eva reciprocates his smile. “We’re just a couple of surprising people I suppose,” she says, causing Chris to visibly chuckle.

“I suppose we are,” he says.

Fy chooses that moment to walk up to them and places a slobbering snout on Chris’s knee, looking up at him with sad eyes. “I think she’s hungry,” Chris says, reaching down to pet her on the head.

Eva chuckles at that, leaning down to face the dog that is pointedly not making eye contact with her. “Girl, are you angry with me? That’s why you’re turning to Chris to gripe to?” As if on cue, she emits a sad whining sound that causes Eva to laugh out loud. “Alright, alright,” she says, getting to her feet and walking towards the kitchen. She expects to hear the pattering of padded paws and scratching nails against the wood trailing after her, instead the only thing she hears is silence. Instead of Fy following her to the kitchen, she turns around just in time to see Faen walking up to the spot she just vacated and taking a seat right in front of Chris, staring up at him intently. That was the closest she’d seen her younger dog get to Chris in the last two weeks he’s been with them.

Slowly, Eva watches as Chris lifts the hand not currently stroking the top of Fy’s head and holds it out to Faen to sniff, which he does hesitantly after a moment; sniffing the hand tentatively without breaking eye contact. Eventually he drops his snout and averts his eyes and leans his head into Chris’s palm, as if to say ‘here, you’re allowed to pet me now’. Eva smiles at that. There was something satisfying about watching her dogs and watching her Chris interacting in such a peaceful loving manner that caused a warm feeling to blossom in the pit of her stomach. Chris was friendly with her cats, Maribelle and Buttercup since the beginning and the cats in return were curt with him in a way only cats could be. The rabbits, the mice and the fowls were generally uninterested in whatever was happening at home and kept their distance. But watching Faen and Fy taking a liking to Chris, it made her feel a sort of validation in a way, that she had done something right. Because if Chris wasn’t the good person she’d come to know him as, her dogs wouldn’t have taken to him the way they obviously have.

She returns with two bowls of food for the dogs, attracting their attention immediately and they finally abandon Chris’s side to come to her.

“Faen likes you,” Eva says when she walks back to Chris and takes up the seat she’d vacated. “He doesn’t usually like anyone, not even my friends. Or rather, he’s always wary of them and he’s never gotten close to a person besides me before,” Eva says. “It’s always just been the three of us; Fy’s has a much friendlier disposition, but Faen is very protective of me. And to see him taking a shine to you…well, that makes me very happy.”

Chris smiles at that. “So I have gotten your dog's’ approval?” he asks in jest, though he adds with a much more serious tone. “I’m more pleased by that information than I thought I would be.”

That makes Eva laugh again and this time Chris joins her.

They just sit there for a long moment just watching the dogs devouring the food in their bowls. It was the most typical way to pass the time but Eva found it relaxing and therapeutic in a way, especially after everything Chris had told her and the nightmare things she’d come to learn about the South; it was a relaxing moment of just allowing the time to pass by with no looming responsibility or anything to get done.

“Would you like to go into town?” It’s Chris who asks the question and it takes Eva a moment to realize that she’d heard right. “I feel like I cut your night short last night and perhaps I should make it up to you.”

Eva was just about to say that he doesn’t need to make anything up to her, but there was such a calm and serene look in his eye, one that she’d never seen before; as if getting everything that he had said off his chest had lessened his burden somewhat. And it is a sight Eva is eager to see more of.

“You didn’t cut my night short, Chris, _but_ I would like to go into town,” she says and tacks on after a thought, “With you.”

Eva stands, saying that she’ll bring in her laundry and let Chris have time to get ready before they leave, but she’s immediately halted by a hand around her wrist, pulling her back down to sit on the bed. Instead Chris reaches for his boots sitting on the side of the bed and the belt on the side table, and gets to his feet, telling Eva that he’ll bring in her laundry and for her to get ready instead.

Eva doesn’t argue; she just tries to smother the smile threatening to emerge when she says, “Okay.”

Not half an hour later, they find themselves walking down the street, passing by the junction leading towards the Count’s house, walking side by side. Chris is in his outfit from the night before, the fine white tunic and the engraved leather belt and his buckled black boots under the similarly black leather pants.

Eva is in a long embroidered powder blue dress with a square neckline showing off the little butterfly necklace she never took off.

She looks over at Chris walking silent beside her, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes gazing far out at the road laid out before them. She notices the way his limp had become slightly more prominent than it had been during their walk towards the festival yesterday and only then just remembered that he might have aggravated his wound pulling the bow during the tournament.

“Did you injure yourself yesterday?” she asks, interrupting his obviously deep thoughts and attracting his attention to her.

“No,” he says. “I mean, it’s nothing serious. I think I might have pulled a muscle during the contest, but I didn’t tear the wound if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Eva appreciates him telling her the truth without her having to push for it. “Well, be careful okay? And if it’s bothering you, please just let me know.”

Chris gives her a small smile. “I will,” he says and Eva doesn’t think she’s felt more appreciated than after hearing those words, because he could obviously tell that she was worried, and he didn’t try to put up a front for his sake or belittle her worry. He was truthful and he was straightforward and Eva couldn’t ask for anything more.

If they were hoping to enter the town under the guise of anonymity and silence that hope was quickly extinguished the moment they stepped in through the wooden sign welcoming them to the town and greeted by a chorus of excited _‘young man’_ s and _‘fantastic work last night,’_ and _‘best shooting I’ve ever seen in my life, lad,’_ and cheerful greetings and congratulations a plenty.

Eva’s smile is full of pride as she steps aside for the sudden influx of people passing in close enough proximity to shake Chris’s hand and pat him on the shoulder.

Chris looks absolutely taken aback, but he doesn’t look uncomfortable or worried, which Eva takes as a good sign. His ‘thank yous’ still sound monotonous and rehearsed but he actually has a flicker on a smile on his lips and a sparkle in his eye that Eva had noticed becoming more and more prominent. She lets him have his moment and searches his face for any sign he was getting uncomfortable, but he remained reservedly pleased through the whole process.

She noticed him stumbling slightly when a man in a dark linen cloak with the hood pulled up, who obviously had a little too much to drink at the tavern accidentally bumped into him, scurrying off without so much as an apology and the way Chris was looking in the direction the man was hurrying off to told Eva that it was time to intervene. So she pushes he way through the crowd and takes Chris by the hand.

“I think it’s time to give him a moment to breathe,” she announces to the crowd, eliciting a wave of disappointed groans.

Chris doesn’t react to her words or seem like he even noticed her hand on his; he has a faraway look in his eyes and his brows are furrowed. He doesn’t react when she tugs his hand out of the center of the amassed crowd, walking in step with her as they head towards the center of the town square.

Eva glances over to Chris who’s been silent for an unusual amount of time to find his eyes darting around tensely; he doesn’t make a show of looking around too obviously but Eva can tell from the way his shoulders are squared and the way he seems to be eying everyone passing by and everyone in their immediate vicinity with a critical eye.

“Is everything alright?” she asks him, squeezing the hand in her grasp a little to catch his attention.

They don’t stop, their feet continuing to take one step after another and it takes Chris a moment to react to her question but when his eyes eventually find hers, Eva can tell immediately that things are definitely not alright. The look in his eyes is unlike any she'd seen before. She’s seen him look pained and sad, she’s seen him look terrified, she’s seen him look happy and contented but she’s never seen him look this way before.

His gaze is almost predatory.

His mouth is downturned into a frown and his brows are furrowed. Even more than that moment when they first stepped foot into the town at the start of the festival, Eva doesn’t have to look down to see the way his fists kept clenching and unclenching, and his other hand constantly reaching over to an invisible spot on his hip, as if the action came second nature to him, as if his grip was seeking the comfort something he was so used to having in his grasp.

Eva knows what it is he was reaching for, but she doesn’t want to think about it.

She could already feel her heart starting to beat faster inside her chest. Whatever managed to spook Chris this way, it was something very real and something very threatening, and Eva thinks she has every reason to be terrified.

“Eva,” he says, his voice deeper than it usually was, more commanding. Nothing in his tone was familiar but everything about the air around him was powerful. Eva thinks that in that moment, she isn’t looking at Chris. She isn’t looking at the quiet man she found in the forest, the one with the too intense gaze and the eyes that were far too old for his age. The one who was one of the kindest people she’s ever met with the biggest heart. The person who was nice to her pets and polite to the friends. The person who showed her respect like she’d never experienced and kindness like she never thought she was worthy of.

She realizes that in that moment that she’s looking at a soldier, a Southern soldier; one of Penetrators. One of the most feared killers from one of the most dangerous nations.

In that moment, Eva felt fear for the very first. Not fear of Chris, but the fear of what she knew he was truly capable of.

“We need to leave,” he says without stopping, tugging his hand out of her grasp and reaching up to grab her across the shoulders. He’s talking to her but his attention is on everything and everyone around him. “We need to leave _now_.”

“What’s…what’s going on?” she asks, glancing around, trying to find what he was looking for or what it was that scared him so badly.

This time Chris finally focuses his attention fully on her, his mouth opening to speak and then—

—and then there’s the wailing sound of an ear splitting scream.

Eva thinks she’d imagined it for a moment before all of a sudden there’s a herd of shouting people rushing towards them, pushing past them hurriedly; making their way as far away from the town center as they could, while both Eva and Chris can do nothing but step aside as the mob rushed past. Chris had pulled her behind him, using his body to protect her from the crowd as they both looked out towards the source of the commotion.

While everything was going on, while the commotion raged around them, Eva finds herself lost in her own mind. It was as if her heart had skipped a beat and was struggling to catch up with the repetitive rhythm. All of a sudden it was like she couldn’t breathe, like she couldn’t inhale breath into her lungs. As if there was a grip around her chest, squeezing her, holding her tight within its grasp.

_Because_ there was an ear splitting scream.

And because it sounded just like Noora.

She feels her body moving of its own accord, but she’s halted in place with just one foot taking a step towards the sound, Chris’s hand on her arm and his eyes on her face.

“Eva!” he nearly shouts, “What are you doing? It’s—”

Eva feels her words coming out as both an exhale and a sob, nearly unintelligible. “It’s Noora,” she chokes out, feeling the tears slowly starting to trickle down her cheeks, her hands reaching up to cup her face. “It’s Noora…it’s—Chris…it’s _Noora_ ,” she sobs, feeling the quiver in her lip and her eyes clouding with tears.

Chris is breathing heavily at this point, his hand still grasping onto Eva’s arm firmly, but his eyes, though still wide with apprehension and shining with fear for her, there’s a spark of hesitation that flickers in them. Eva can see it even through the pool of tears in her eyes.

People are still fleeing whatever it is happening in the middle of town; some bodies colliding into them as they hurry past, their eyes wide and shining with fear.

But Chris doesn’t tear his gaze away from Eva. She sees his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down when he swallows and the prominent clench of his jaw, but there’s a resolution in his eyes and Eva sees the exact moment the walls come up behind his gaze and the Chris that lived with her in her cottage for two weeks, the Chris that she nursed back to health, the Chris that looked at her with such adoration in his eyes, the Chris that won her the bear and was so kind to the kids that looked up to him in awe.

In that moment, she couldn’t see that Chris anymore.

In that moment, the person standing in front of her turned into a complete stranger.

“You have to listen to me, Eva,” he says. His voice stern and commanding and Eva can do little more than nod. “It’s important that you do _everything_ I tell you, no buts, no ifs—absolutely everything,” he says. “Stay out of sight, okay? Don’t come out until _I_ come for you and only _I_. Stay hidden, don’t make a sound, don’t come out of hiding no matter what happens. Promise me, Eva.”

“I—I—I promise,” she breaths out.

Perhaps she didn’t recognize this version of Chris standing in front of her, but she realized that...that he was still _Chris_. This was just the version of himself that he’d kept hidden so well. This was the version Chris that she’s only seen glimpses of during those quiet moments when he thinks she isn’t looking at him.

He smiles at her then and Eva realizes that she was wrong.

He was still the same Chris.

They make their way past the stragglers still fleeing, and come upon the bend leading towards the center of the town; stopping in their tracks behind one of the buildings. Chris in front, his hand still firm around Eva’s wrist, holding her behind him as he peeks from behind the wall to look at what was actually happening in the town center that had everyone fleeing and why there was the sound of Noora’s terrified screams just moments before.

Eva sees him visibly still, and dares a peek at whatever had caught his eye.

The first thing she sees is a bunch of town people cowering behind tables and behind the stalls and behind the stone fountain sitting right in the very middle of the square; covering their heads with their hands and curling into a ball to make themselves smaller; to make themselves unnoticeable. Women were crying, clutching onto their children and trying to keep them quiet.

There were people on their knees in the middle of the square, their shaking hands raised up in the air.

There were men with their wives and their children huddled together; fathers using their bodies to cover their families.

Tables were upturned and goods were strewn across the pavement.

And right in the middle of the square, on his knees, blood dripping down his face and staining his light yellow shirt a deep red from a cut above his forehead was William, with Noora yelling frantically from somewhere on the side, being held back by armoured hands around her stomach and another around her neck.

William was on the ground, being held up by a figure holding him by the scruff of his neck, his throat exposed; his eyes never once leaving Noora’s tear filled ones staring at him terrified from the side.

On either side of him and standing before him with a large sword that kept being lifted up, the blade edge being brought close to his exposed throat, were three men. The sound of guffawing emitting from the one holding onto Noora who periodically leaned down to sniff her hair menacingly; two others prowling around, keeping close eyes on the townspeople spread out across the square on their knees, terrified at what was taking place right in front of their eyes.

But Eva couldn’t even focus completely on what was happening, or the warmth of Chris’s body beside her.

She couldn’t focus on the sight on Noora’s tearful terrified expression looking at William or the soft sniffling sound she could hear coming from the square.

She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the six men armed men in the square; the blackness of their armour like a camouflage in the darkness; the metal sounds of their scabbard clanking against their armour when they walked…

…and the terrifying wolf emblem carved onto their chest piece.

**tbc.**


	8. Enemies at the Gate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eva feels her heart dropping to her stomach at the sight. She can’t breathe. She can’t think. She can’t tear her eyes away from the terrifying sight before her eyes. Not even Chris’s body shifting beside her is enough to break her out of her trance, until she feels the hand still firm around her wrist tugging her away from the wall. She trails behind him involuntarily, putting one foot ahead of the other without even thinking about it, her body moving almost of its own accord.

She realizes when Chris stops. She notices him opening a wooden door on the side of the building they were hiding behind. The room is dark when they enter—empty… deserted… barren. Eva sees all this happening, she feels Chris’s hand on hers and the heat of his body beside her, but she just can’t react, she can’t respond, she can barely even remember how to keep breathing.

All she can see is Noora’s terrified expression, the tears streaming down her face and the sight of William’s blood drenching his own clothes.

She can only see the terrifying wolf head on the pitch black armour that she still dreams about when she closes her eyes to sleep at night.

“I-It’s the Southern soldiers…” she manages to choke out like her breath is being ripped from her lungs. “It’s the Penetrators,” she cries.

This time Chris tears his eyes away from whatever it was he was looking for inside that small room to look at her. He steps up to her, taking her by the shoulders in his strong grip and pulls her into an embrace.

“It’s going to be okay, Eva,” he says, “It’s going to be okay. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Eva reaches up to circle her arms around his waist, latching on tightly, burying her face in his shoulder. “They have Noora, Chris—” she sobs. “They have her.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into her ear. “I’m so sorry—they’ve come for me, and all of you are caught up in this because of me. I’m so very sorry.”

Eva wants to answer him. She wants to reassure him that it isn’t his fault, that he has nothing to be sorry for, but the only thing she can do is latch onto him tighter and sob into his shoulder.

They don’t stay in the embrace for long. Eventually Chris eases up on his hold and pulls back, holding her at arm’s length with his hands on her arms.

“I need you to stay here, Eva—no matter what happens, no matter what you see or what you hear, please don’t leave this room,” he says, looking her straight in the eyes.

“Chris—”

“Please, Eva. This time, please just do what I ask,” he says— _pleads_ with her, the look in his eyes desperate and Eva finds herself unable to look away.

She can do no more than nod because it feels as if part of her soul is slowly withering away on the inside.

“I won’t let anything happen to you or your friends, you have my word,” he says, “Just as you have my heart.” The last part takes Eva by surprise, but before she can even think of a response, he’s let go of her arms and pushed past her, heading towards the door without a single glance back, stepping out into the sunlight as the wooden door slowly swings to a close.

Eva finds herself in the room all of a sudden plunged into silence. She reaches up to wipe the tears from her eyes, and tries to gather herself up; forcing herself to come back down into the moment, to find her wits about her and force herself into the calm state that’s becoming the protective barrier she’d learned to erect around her.

She finds the small window near the corner overlooking the town square, and rushes over to peek out. She can see both William and Noora from that angle, close enough to hear Noora’s perpetual whimpering but hidden enough in the darkness to not be noticed by their captors. Noora is still struggling against the hands holding her and William still glaring daggers at the men in front of him, but unable to do anything against the armed soldiers holding him and Noora hostage.

She can hear the sound of Noora’s pleading sobs and the laughter of the man holding her. She can hear the sound of their swords clanking against the metal armour against their thighs anytime one of them walked past her window.

She looks out at the entirety of the square, this time able to focus better on the sight when her eyes aren’t clouded by terror; seeing groups of people cowering in fear at every point, hiding behind upturned tables and behind the wooden stalls. She spots a head of blonde by the fountain and her heart drops to her stomach when she recognizes the back of Magnus’s head and the head of long blonde hair tucked under his chin and in his embrace.

Her eyes glance over to Christina’s tavern that’s situated right across from the place she’s hiding in, and she thinks she sees a head bopping up and down periodically through the window, watching the unfolding scene the same way she was. She sees the same sight when she looks towards where Sana’s shop is situated. Thankfully, besides Vilde and Noora, it doesn’t seem like either of them got caught outside. She notices more people peeking in through their windows, those lucky to be able to observe everything from the safety of their shops instead of getting caught outside in the open where the Southern soldiers could see them and hurt them.

The sky beyond is a gorgeous shade of blue, free of clouds and in the distance a flock of geese are beginning their migration south. Nothing in the sky or in the beautiful scenery beyond is mirroring the terrifying scene taking place in that quaint, peaceful little town down below.

But peace is never meant to last. Chris learned that a long time ago. Dissention and discord finds everything eventually and with it comes war and pain and death. Chris is used to all that; he’s used to always fighting for survival, fighting for his place in the world, and fighting to see the end of the day. Fighting is what he’s good at - it’s what he does; but being in that town, being in that little cottage on the outskirts near the forest with a girl who intrigued him as well as confused him, it made him believe that perhaps fighting wasn’t everything he was meant to do and it wasn’t all that he was meant to be.

Both Eva and Chris are looking at the sky at the exact same moment, but appreciating the serenity and pondering the meaning of it in very different ways and for very different reasons.

For Eva, it’s because it’s the calm in the eye of the storm, the only thing that managed to distract her from the terrifying scene unfolding before her very eyes and all the dark thoughts that began to invade her mind.

For Chris, it’s because for the very first time in his most recent memory, he feels completely at peace.

Everything about the last two weeks had felt like a dream; a dream that he hadn’t been able to wake up from; a dream that he didn’t _want_ to wake up from. It was of a life he never had a chance to experience, or rather, one he never knew he’d ever get to experience. A life that was pleasant and peaceful and beautiful with a person who was the embodiment of all three.

Eva was beautiful and generous and thoughtful and kindest person he’d ever met in his life. Eva was a credit to the human race and every moment he spent with her felt like a moment he did not deserve.

But ultimately he knew that it wasn’t going to last, and it didn’t. The peace and the comfort and the… _happiness_ he’d felt for the last two weeks, it was never destined to last and it didn’t. Karma finally caught up to him for all the atrocities he’d committed and all the people he’d killed and unfortunately, Eva and her friends ended up getting caught in the middle

But the despite the bleak prospect and a future that seemed uncertain; despite the men in the square that he knew more intimately than he really wanted to, he knew what they could do and what they were capable of; despite being outnumbered six-to-one, Chris is completely at peace in that moment, because ultimately, this is what he’s trained for his whole life, this is what he’s good at.

That was who he is and who he always will be.

Death and defeat never scared him, because he never had anything precious to hold on to; he never had anything of value to lose. But he has Eva now, and Eva is his everything, so defeat now is not even an option.

Chris is at peace because he knows that one way or another, no Southern soldier would be walking out of that town alive, even if it meant that he wouldn’t either.

The dirt shifts under his feet when he pushes himself off the door he’d been leaning against; taking deep, measured breaths and pulling at the edges of his tunic, smoothing out the hem. He tightens the belt around his waist and something in his eyes change in that moment. In that moment, he’s glad Eva isn’t there to see him because he know that she wouldn’t recognize him; or worse still, she would fear him, and that’s a sight Chris would never wish to see with his own two eyes.

The town is still and dead silent.

Chris steps out from behind the bend.

Every onlookers eyes fall on the new figure that walks out into the square; his white shirt clean and crisp and almost glowing under the brightness of the sun. The two patrolling soldiers are preoccupied with something behind one of the emptied stalls. The two who holding William in the center of the square are conversing with the third one who’s holding the glinting sword tight in his grasp, with his back to Chris’s silently approaching figure. The sixth was whispering vulgarities into Noora’s disgusted ear as she continues to struggle in vain trying to get away.

William has ceased his struggles and is trying to keep his eyes on Noora and the soldier holding her captive, but he could feel himself slowly losing his grip on consciousness and his gaze blurring because of the blood still trickling down his face.

Chris’s strut is slow and calculated; his entire demeanour, calm.

He passes by Vilde and Magnus who turn their attention to him when they notice his presence, their eyes widening in surprise and fear. He notices Vilde shaking her head at him, her eyes wide and fearful.

Chris spares them a brief wordless glance but looks away without acknowledging her silent pleading. Instead his gaze quickly finds the small window on his right when he passes by and notices the too familiar beautiful face staring back at him through the glass; her eyes widened in horror and disbelief as she starts vigorously shaking her head just as Vilde had done; her lips moving soundlessly mouthing the words ‘no’ and ‘please’.

Chris’s expression doesn’t change, and his steely determination remains resolute. His breathing remains shallow and steady, his heartbeat barely noticeable thumping inside his chest. He isn’t nervous and he isn’t intimidated because just as kindness and compassion is the embodiment of everything that is Eva, this is his: fighting and killing and not allowing anyone to see how terrified he truly is on the inside.

It’s William’s glassy, bewildered eyes that finds his first, spotting his approach before anyone else in the vicinity noticed him audaciously walking up into their midst. His gaze is followed almost immediately by Noora and her captor’s, and then by the two soldiers holding William to the ground.

It’s like a domino effect after that as all eyes focused on the happenings in the middle of the square by the terrified townsfolk abruptly turn to him.

“Well, well, _well!_ ” Said the soldier holding the sword in a sing-song voice as turned his body completely around to face Chris when he finally noticed his approach He stabs his sword into the crack in the pavement at his feet and leans on the handle nonchalantly like a cane. “ _Chris!_ ” he adds; his tone one of amused disbelief mixed with surprise and perhaps even a bit of gratification. “Look lads, our esteemed captain, still alive and kicking,” he says with a laugh, turning around to look at the three soldiers behind him, each of them exchanging an unreadable look with each other at the revelation. “I have to say, you look good, Chris; _healthy_. Being dead has done absolute wonders for you.”

Chris doesn’t have to turn to notice the two helmeted, patrolling guards walking up behind him to flank him from about twenty-feet away as he stops in his tracks, keeping the same distance between him at the leader of the soldiers doing the talking before him. Out of the corner of his eyes, he notices the seventh soldier, camouflaged among the crowd in his dark linen cloak stepping out of the alley silently, keeping his distance and hovering out of sight.

“You know, the moment I heard the rumour about the man who shot the impossible shot with his arrows, I had a deep inkling that it was you. I know of only one person who could accomplish such a thing, and lo and behold, here you are, standing before us, _still_ _breathing_. I did ask myself then; it couldn’t be true, could it? After all, he’s dead—I saw to it myself when I gutted him like a fucking pig.” The soldier stalks around Chris but keeps his distance, the menacing sword still gripped tightly in his grasp.

Chris doesn’t react at all to the taunting. He keeps his eyes on William staring between him and the soldier confusedly, before tearing his gaze away to find Noora’s. He hears the sound of her periodic sniffling and though her eyes are red and swollen from crying, her tears have finally ceased trickling.

Eventually his eyes lock onto the soldier, who still has his arms wrapped threateningly around Noora, his forearm brushing against her bosom every time she struggled, one large hand holding Noora by both wrists in front of her chest, the other one reaching up to brush her blonde hair away from the shoulder and neck. He doesn’t break eye contact with Chris when he lowers his face down to the crook of her neck and inhales deeply, causing Noora to shudder and let out a small whimper.

“Let the girl go,” Chris says, his first words since he left Eva behind in safety, causing the soldier before him to halt in his stride.

“Well, he _does_ speak,” he laughs, crossing his arms behind his back, the blade of his sword trailing on the ground behind him as he makes his way closer, stopping about an arm’s-length away in front of Chris.

Chris doesn’t respond to his nearness. His expression remains stoic and icy, his eyes sharp. Though his gaze never leaves the soldier standing in front him, his hearing and his other senses register the positions and the distances of the rest of the men and the townspeople from the soon to be battle ground.

The two behind him were closing the distance slowly; the cloaked, disguised soldier had moved from his position near the mouth of the alley, making his way around as his eyes continue to survey the surroundings and the cowering townspeople just as intently as Chris. The one holding Noora was paying Chris no mind and was whispering inaudible things into a crying Noora’s ear while Williams could do nothing but watch on in anger. His struggles were futile and one swift kick into the midsection was enough to put him down again, coughing and spluttering and Noora screaming his name from the side.

“Let. The girl. Go,” he repeats, this time the tone of his voice much lower and more threatening, his eyes boring holes into the smirking soldier in front of him.

The man scoffs, though his eyes look Chris up and down. “Remind me again,” he starts, uncrossing his arms and bringing the sword up in front of him, pointing it in Chris’s direction, “Where again did I stick you? Was it on this side…?” he uses the blade of the sword to point towards Chris’s left side, the sharp edge barely touching Chris’s skin but hovering close enough to be a threat. “Or was it…on _this_ side…” Instead of using his blade to point to Chris’s right, he nods to one of the men standing behind who steps up and without warning, lands a fist right in the center of Chris’s still healing wound, driving the breath from his lungs and causing him to double over with a groan of pain.

Chris hears Noora’s scream in his periphery, but the sound also masks another scream he can hear from a voice he knows all too familiar, but he doesn’t stay down for long. He struggles to regulate his breathing and without making a sound straightens back up; the only sign of the pain he was in is the brief hitch in his breath and the red stain slowly blossoming on the side of his white tunic. His eyes are steely and his face emotionless when he levels the man once again with a cool glare.

This time, the soldier’s smirk drops considerably longer, his expression changes to one of more obvious anger with a hint of actual fear before he schools his face once again and instead lets out a forced laugh. “You know, I never liked you—too weepy and preachy, sitting comfortably on that moral high ground of yours, thinking that you’re so much better than everyone just because you supposedly live by some _code_ —” he spits out that last word with clear disgust. “Emotions…feelings—it makes people weak and you were undoubtedly the weak of us all because of it,” he says, once again prowling around Chris like a predator.

Chris doesn’t react, inhaling and exhaling calmly through his nose; nothing in his expression or posture revealing anything of what he was feeling on the inside; not his pain, not his rage and certainly not the way his brain was already thinking up three different ways to kill the four soldiers closest to him.

The soldier continues on with his spiel without concern.  “But then, things like this—” he motions to Chris up and down with a flick of his wrist, motioning to his stoic reaction to the pain, “—leads me to believe _once again_ that you’re actually the most terrifying of us all, you just disguise it better under all that wide eyed gullibility.”

He stops abruptly a foot in front of Chris, going toe-to-toe with him, his sword still clutched tightly at his side.

Chris tears his eyes away from where they were locked onto Noora’s tear filled ones and finds the silent fury in the soldier’s gaze on him, his face a mask of indifference, completely barren of emotion.

He licks his lips once, prompting the soldier to blink once, breaking the tense standoff. “Let the girl go,” he repeats a third time.

The soldier’s face twists into one of fury, his nostrils flaring and his teeth bared; he takes one step closer until their noses are almost touching, their eyes completely levelled and his firm grip on the sword in his hand tightening. “Such a pretty little thing, no wonder you’d want her,” he grins; looking back to stare at Noora, “We’ll send her to the barracks with the other whores, they’ll break her in soon enough.” He tears his eyes to look back at Chris, “But, I’m a fair man, so if you want the girl,” his breath warm on Chris’s face, their eyes never breaking contact even once, “Then go get her yourself.”

The last word had barely left the soldier’s lips when Chris moves, swift and soundless. His eyes not betraying his plans for even a second, his hands are on the daggers at the soldier's side, both the one in front of him and the one behind him before they even realize what’s happening.

Chris grabs the dagger behind him without even looking with his right hand, twirling it around in his fingers with skill and precision nurtured by many years of fighting, and grasping it tight, bringing the glinting blade to face forward before he buries it deep in the side of soldier before him, nearly in the exact same spot he’d been stabbed himself. His left hand grabs the soldier’s dagger before his knees buckle under him, yanking it out the same time gravity pulls the body down to thud onto the ground with a wail of pain, kneeing the man in the face when he falls to one knee on the rocky ground, twirling the second dagger the same way but this time with the sharpened blade facing away from him. He twirls around in the spot, using the turn and the strength of his arm to slice it clean across the throat of the soldier behind his left.

His does a complete turn and before both bodies could even fully land on the ground, throws the dagger up in the air, catching the blade between his fingers and using the momentum of this spin, flings it with all his might; his eyes locked onto it as it flies through the air and lands in the side of the throat of the soldier holding Noora who was in mid-motion of pulling out his own sword; missing her by a hair width but drenching her in the blood that immediately started spouting from the wound.

No one has time to react before the two bodies, followed closely by the third, lands on the ground with a squelching thud.

Only then does Noora scream.

The townspeople scatter, drowning out the silence with their horrified screams.

The two soldiers holding William throw him immediately to the ground, reaching for their swords and rushing towards Chris.

Everything starts happening in slow motion in Chris’s mind, the sounds are all muffled and he briefly notices William staggering to his feet and rushing towards Noora who is still standing frozen in place, half her face, hair and blue dress now stained completely red with blood.

The two soldiers were moving in slow motion towards him; Chris could almost see the contracting muscles of their bodies under their armour as they moved; their expression caught somewhere between anger and fear. He sees the disguised soldier throwing off his cloak and reaching for his own sword hidden underneath. He’s aware of the last soldier behind him, which he decides is the immediate priority as his body moves to turn around to face him.

But instead, he barely manages to turn half way when he feels the back of a fist bumping his chest, but not like a punch. The hand is grasping a long sword but it’s not aimed at him, rather, it’s as if the soldier is handing it to him.

Chris finally turns his gaze up to look and under the metal helmet of the Southern army, the side carved with the similar emblem of the wolf, he sees a flash of blond hair and a familiar hesitant grin and he finds himself halted in his step.

“Erik?” he says, eyes widening.

 _Erik_ doesn’t have time to respond, he pushes Chris to the side and reaches for the dropped sword lying on the ground and brings it up just in time to catch the sharpened edge of the blade aimed to take Chris’s head off his shoulders.

Chris blinks and quickly emerges into the moment, this time everything has sped up to normal once again; the sound of steel clanking against steel is nearly deafening and Erik at his side fights one of the three remaining soldiers. Chris barely has time to look for the main soldier, the one he’d stabbed through the side, but finds only a spot of blood on an empty place and the particular soldier nowhere in sight. But he doesn’t have time to do anything before he’s rushed by the other soldier and the one in regular clothing coming up close behind.

He manages to bend down to grasp one of the short swords on the fallen soldier’s hip and wields both in the fighting stance that’s almost second nature to him.

He holds his ground and doesn’t move an inch even as the two soldiers come nearer and nearer, his expression to epitome of calm. Then he swings, catching the blade of the other sword mid arch; the vibration of the impact rattled his teeth, causing small sparks to fly. With the shorter sword in his left hand he deflected the strike second sword aimed at his chest, letting the blade slide down his and catching it with the curved edge of the cross guard and with a flick of his wrist, flings it out of the man’s grasp. Chris immediately draws his arm back and buries the sharpened end of the sword in his heart.

Without missing a beat, Chris brings the short sword back up and drives it through the final soldier’s chest cavity, in between his ribs and straight through the lungs.

The moment the soldier drops heavily to the ground, dead, Chris looks over just as Erik drives his sword through the chest of the final soldier.

His ears pick up the distant, low thundering sound of hooves and the blaring noise of horns signalling the imminent arrival of the royal guards who have no doubt been informed of the enemy forces that had breached the borders.

Chris’s eyes immediately find Erik’s who sheaths the sword in his hand, his eyes wide. “Get out of here,” he says, “I’ll draw them away.”

“But—”

Chris barely has time to his verbalise his counter argument before Erik takes off in the direction of the approaching guards, yelling behind him for Chris to “Go now!”

Chris bites his lip, grasping the hilt of the two swords in his hand so tight he can feel the blood draining from his knuckles.

For a moment his eyes find William holding a sobbing Noora against his chest, his eyes still slightly glazed but glinting with fear when he stares back at Chris. He doesn’t have to look around to know that every single eye on him in that moment is projecting the same fearful expression.

He lets both swords slide out of his grip, barely registering the sound of them clattering to the ground before he springs back, sprinting the few feet back towards the door of the room he’d left Eva in. He’s absolutely terrified for the split second his hand is reaching for the doorknob, afraid of the expression on Eva’s face that he’ll find staring back at him; terror, horror, disgust…fear—every worst possible thing he can imagine, but his fingers barely brush across the copper knob of the door when it swings open and he find’s Eva’s teary gaze on him instead.

He opens his mouth to speak but finds that his voice has abandoned him in that moment. Instead, it’s Eva who says, “The guards are coming, we have to get out of here.” She grabs his wrist in a tight grip before he even has a chance to reply, dragging him behind her as she starts to run. Instead of heading in the direction of the entrance of the town where they’d come in, Eva drags him in the opposite direction. Chris remembers that this was the small alleyway that leads to the forest, the path they’d taken to get home after what happened at the festival last night.

Had it been just the night before? It feels like it’s been years.

He looks down at his hands, the hand clutched in Eva’s tight fist is stained with blood, none of it his. His white shirt is now stained with flecks of blood on the sleeves and around the collar. The only blood on his clothes that actually belongs to him is the stain on his side and the blood leaking from the reopened wound that is now trickling down his side and his pant leg.

But Eva is holding his hand tight in hers and when she looks back to stare at him, the only thing he sees shining at him through her eyes is concern and with tears of heartbreak pooling in the corner. He doesn’t know whether it’s better or worse than what he imagined he’d see staring back him.

The alley is just in sight. In his periphery Chris can hear the sounds of hooves, the neighing of horses and loud sounds of voices yelling out commands as they reach the mouth of the alley. But before they can turn into it, a figure steps right in their way, blocking their path and casting a large shadow that completely swallows the light behind him.

It’s the man whose son Chris had taught how to shoot that night at the festival.

Instead of the big smile on his kindly face, he finds a deep frown and furrowed brows staring back at him through eyes that were unblinking. The expression on his face is unreadable.

Chris can hear the sound of clattering hooves coming closer and closer towards where they were and in that split second, he wishes that he hadn’t dropped both sword. But the moment the thoughts came to his mind is the exact moment the man steps to the side, allowing them access into the dank alley way behind him.

“Go,” he says, his voice booming, “Get out of here.”

Eva recovers faster than Chris and with a heartfelt thank you; she tugs the still dumbfounded Chris toward the dark unoccupied alleyway.

Chris doesn’t know what to think or how to even begin to process what had just happened, even more so that what had taken place in the town square. After all, he’s used to killing; he’s used to the feel of blood on his hands, between his fingers and the tasting the metallic tang of it on his tongue.

What he isn’t used to is… _this_. This kind of kindness and generosity from people he didn’t know who didn’t owe him anything. It’s such a foreign concept and unnatural feeling and he didn’t even know where to begin to process it all.

They were halfway down the alley when the man’s voice calls out. “Young man—” Chris glances back in time to see the wide, warm smile blossoming on his face once again when he adds, “—Don’t get caught.” Before he turns back, placing his entire body in front of the mouth of the alley, swallowing up the sliver of light streaming through from where the town road led into the hills and forest beyond.

Chris is still gaping at his back as Eva continues tugging his reluctant person towards the other end of the alley and into the forest shrubbery beyond when he hears the man’s voice once again, yelling out; his tone one of near distress and his failing arms motioning towards the hill on the outskirts of the village where they’d had the fireworks display the night before, the completely opposite end of where Chris and Eva were actually headed.

“Over there! They’re headed towards the hills, quick!—” he yells out and whatever he adds after Chris doesn’t hear, because the sound of their footsteps running across the stony path is immediately silenced when their feet finds the grassy, dirt ground in the dark canopy of the forest behind the town.

The moment they’re clear of the buildings disappearing behind the trees behind them, Chris finally feels like he’s able to gather his thoughts. He’d allowed his mind to escape him during the fight, because in battle he didn’t have to think; all his senses were heightened and his instincts would kick in. He didn’t have to anticipate where an attack was coming from because he could instinctively tell. It was like feeling deep inside his gut, in his soul, nurtured by a lifetime of fighting and anticipating death at every corner. He didn’t have to use his mind.

It was the same with shooting an arrow; ultimately all the skill in the world was useless, all you really had was your gut instinct, and Chris had that aplenty. It was one of the reasons why he started to trust this strange girl that brought him in and cared for him, cleaned his wounds and kept him alive for no other reason than because she was good and kind.

Chris never trusted good people not to have an ulterior motive. He didn’t trust kind people because ultimately everyone had their own agenda and most of the time, other people’s agendas were what got you killed, and Chris managed to stay alive for this long for a reason.

But Eva didn’t have an ulterior motive, she didn’t have an agenda. She held nothing over him and never expected anything in return.

Eva was just kind because she was a kind person; even from the first moment he awoke in the strange place, in that unfamiliar house with that girl he’d never seen before looking down at him, something deep inside his gut told him that he had nothing to fear, and his gut never steered him wrong. In the end what he found was a happiness he could never have imagined, a comforting presence he never had even in his sweetest dreams and a smile so beautiful it was only described in tales his mother used to tell to him when he was a child.

But death follows him everywhere and this time, he’d lead it straight to Eva and her life; her friends and her people and he’d never be able to forgive himself for that.

Eva noticeably slows down. Chris can see her breathing hard and tugs at her grip to encourage her to stop. She’s reluctant at first but the moment they cease their running Eva bends over, her hands on her knees, panting hard.

He opens his mouth to speak, but at the same time there’s the sound of a twig snapping behind him and the rustle of leaves being pushed to the side. Chris immediately swirls around, placing his body fully in front of Eva, in between her and the new presence whose footsteps he can hear thumping ever closer towards them. He can feel Eva’s hand clutching at the material of his shirt behind him, bringing herself close to his back and he circles one arm behind him, holding her close and protected.

What stumbles into the small clearing instead, with his tousled blond hair and reddened face is Erik. Chris breathes a sigh of relief the moment he sees him.

“It’s okay,” he turns slightly to say to Eva. “He’s a friend,” he says, turning to regard Erik again, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips when he adds; “A good friend.”

“Brother,” Erik says, straightening up and taking a few steps closer. Chris pulls away from Eva to meet him halfway they both embrace with their entire being; Chris thumping him on the back few times and Erik burying his face in the crook of Chris’s neck. “I thought you died,” he says. His voice muffled and slightly choked. “We all thought you died.”

Chris exhales. “I almost did,” he says, gently easing out of the hug and taking a step back as Erik sniffles and rubs at his face with the palm of his hand. “This is Eva,” he steps up beside Eva, circling an arm around her shoulders and beckoning her to step forward. “She saved my life. She’s the only reason I’m alive.” He then turns to Eva and motions towards Erik. “This is Erik, he was my lieutenant.”

Erik clasps his hands behind him and bows a little to her. “Milady.”

Eva returns the greeting with a small hesitant curtsy before turning back to Chris. “What’s going on?”

Chris swallows once and turns to Erik. “How did they find me? How did they know I was alive?”

Erik runs his fingers through his blond hair. “They didn’t—I mean, we didn’t. Not at first. Bjorn was convinced that you weren’t dead but no one really believed him. Everyone was really angry about what he did and the way he went about it; even Slit Trench who hated your guts thought it was beyond cowardly. This mission was not sanctioned by the generals; he just gathered a few of the men still completely loyal to him and decided to take his chances. I went along because—well, because on the slim chance that you were alive and he did somehow manage to find you, I knew you’d need someone to back you up.

“He sent Tor ahead to scout the towns but the moment he heard about the man who shot those arrows at the festival, he knew.”

Chris can’t help but shake his head at his own stupidity. He had only himself to blame.

He feels Eva slipping her hand into his and turned to find her gazing intently at him, as if somehow she knew exactly what he was thinking. “It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known,” she says and Chris finds himself unable to look away.

_How?_

How could she know? How could she be so kind and considerate? Why is she so? What had he done to deserve such kindness?

“You saved us,” she says. “In the end that’s all that matters.”

“We have to get out of here,” Erik says shaking both him and Eva out of the moment and it’s as if the thought only just occurred to him.

He’d have to leave.

He’d have to leave _Eva_ , to keep her safe.

It’s as if the thought only just occurred to Eva as well when she turns back to look at him, the look in her eye is of fear and absolute heartbreak. Chris is about to say something when she begins talking first. “The night I found you, I hid your armour and your weapons in the forest—where no one would be able to find them.”

“We need to get it,” Erik says and only his hand grasping Chris’s upper arm forces him to look away from Eva, and to look away from the tears he can already see beginning to pool up in her eyes.

“I’ll show you where it is,” Eva says and without word, she turns around immediately without sparing a look at him and sprints towards the darkest part, deeper into the forest.

Erik follows after her but Chris takes a moment to himself, just trying to breathe and trying to imagine walking away from the only good thing that’s ever happened in his life.

Erik’s voice calls him from somewhere behind the trees which spurs him on and he quickly picks up his pace to follow them at a distance.

Chris has absolutely no memory of the place even as they venture closer and closer. He thought he’d have at least an inkling for déjà vu the dearer they got, it was the place he’d somehow found himself walking towards for no other reason than the fact his instinct beckoned him to. But he couldn’t remember making his way through the trees, trying to keep the blood from pouring out more than it already had, drenching himself and the poor horse he’d ridden to get there; feeling life slowly beginning to seep away and his eyes growing heavier and heavier. There wasn’t any pain, or rather he didn’t notice it, he was used to pain, but the absence of it at that time made his mind cloudy. He’d learned to focus on pain to drown out everything else; to drown out the screaming and the crying and the sound of explosions going off around him; the sound of dying men gurgling and choking on their own blood and the sound of them sobbing for their mothers.

He remembered thinking of his mother in that moment. Seeing her beautiful face and her kind eyes and the smile she was always so generous with-with the people around. He remembered seeing her face, almost like it was right in front of him, but perhaps they’d been apart for so long that he’d forgotten what she really looked like, because she looked different when he looked at her face just before the darkness claimed him.

He realizes now that it wasn’t his mother’s beautiful face that he saw before he lost consciousness.

It was Eva’s.

But Eva isn’t looking at him now and he doesn’t know what expression he’ll see when she finally does turn around. He can guess, but the prospect of seeing the devastated look on Eva’s face isn’t something he’d ever wish.

Eva standing by a tree when he finally catches up to them, Erik is breathing heavily on the side and Eva has her back to him as she reached into a narrow hole in the bark of the giant tree in the clearing, pulling out a dirty wrapped bundle and placing it on the ground in the middle before she kneels down to unwrap it.

It was like watching terrible memories of his past life being unwrapped one by one, seeing the familiar chest plate and the scabbard of his sword, recalling the amount of people he’d killed, the amount of blood he’d been spattered with. He tries to remember all the faces of the people’s he’s killed, but it isn’t easy, sometimes in the frenzy of battle he’d lose sight of his opponent and cut them down before even having a chance to see their face.

But seeing his sword and his dagger; the chest plate that’s saved his life more times that he could count; remembering every time he came so close to ending it all, but being thwarted each time.

But then again, if he’d died back then, if he hadn’t been betrayed and hadn’t given in to his instinct to flee, he never would have come to end up in this foreign land, in this forest he didn’t know and end up being found by the one person he didn’t deserve at all.

He never would have met Eva and that was an empty world he couldn’t even begin to imagine.

“—do you hear me?”

Erik is talking but Chris hadn’t heard a single word he’d said. He finds the other man right in front of his face, shaking him by the arm, demanding his attention.

“What?” he asks, not knowing where to even focus his mind; his eyes find Eva still kneeling in front of the dirtied bundle spread out on the ground before her, her head bowed low and her fingers absentmindedly caressing the hilt of his sword.

“We have to go right now. The guard would probably pick up on our scent soon, if they haven’t already. I saw a second squad approaching with the hounds when I was chasing after you.”

Chris can’t concentrate. He can’t even remember how to speak in that moment. Everything was happening too fast for him to process. He pushes past Erik who’s still talking, but Chris isn’t listening to a word he’s saying. He almost stumbles towards Eva, who gets to her feet when she sees him approach. Without waiting for a word, he grabs her by the shoulders and pulls her into a hug, his arms reaching around her back and holding her close to his chest. He feels her arms circling his chest, latching on just as tight before she starts to sob.

He doesn’t know how long they stand there in the embrace, until Erik’s voice pierces through the muffle veil around him and all of a sudden he finds himself in reality again.

“Come with me,” he says before he even has a chance to think about what he’s saying.

Eva stills in his arms and slowly unfurls herself from the embrace, moving back but not stepping away. Chris doesn’t let go of her shoulders and he turns his gaze down to meet her tear filled eyes.

Her lip quivers and a single tear trickles down her cheek. “I cannot,” she says.

It’s the answer Chris expected, but it doesn’t break his own heart any less. “Then I’ll stay,” he says. “I won’t leave you, Eva.”

Eva sobs. The tears start trickling faster down her cheeks though she forces a small sad smile onto her face. “You must. You can’t stay,” she says sadly, “As much as I want you to. As much as I wish I could go with you…my place is here and yours—” she chokes, “—is not.”

Chris feels the tears starting to pool in his own eyes and he quickly pulls Eva back into the embrace before she can see them fall. “I’ll come back for you, Eva,” he says, his hand cupping the back of Eva’s head as he feels her own arms latching onto his waist tightly.

Eva doesn’t answer. Chris can only hear the sounds of her choked sobs.

“Chris, we need to go.” It’s Erik’s voice that disrupts the moment.

Chris pulls back slightly; holding Eva at arms-length and looking her straight in the eyes. “ _I love you_ , Eva, more than I ever thought I was capable of. More than I thought I ever would again after my mother died, but I love _you_. In the short time we’ve known each other, you’ve showed me things I never could have dreamed of; you made me feel things I didn’t think I was capable of anymore. You made me want to be a better person, a person who was worthy of the kindness you were showing; a person deserving of your care—a person…a person who was _better_. I was a terrible person before I met you, and you made me want to be more than I was,” he says, trying not to choke on his words and the sob he wouldn’t allow to break through. “I’ll come back for you, I swear on my mother’s name, just—just please, wait for me.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a shiny silver chain. Reaching behind him to grab Eva’s wrist and tugging it in front of him. He grabs the small chain with two fingers and circles it around Eva’s wrist.

“The man at the festival gave me some shillings when you had your back to us even though I turned him down, and I bought this just before the fireworks started,” he explains but Eva couldn’t tear her eyes away from the glittering chain and the little silver apple hanging off it.

Eva chokes back her tears and reaches up behind her, unlatching the necklace with the butterfly pendant around her neck and stands on her tiptoes to hook it around Chris’s.

“Think of me when you look at this,” she says.

Chris grabs the little butterfly in one hand and levels Eva with an intense look. “I won’t stop thinking of you at all,” he says.

Neither of them talk or move in the moment that floats by, until they both do; Chris leans down slightly, his hand around Eva’s waist and Eva gets up on her tip-toes, cupping the sides of Chris’s face between her palms. Their lips meet somewhere in between.

The kiss is short and quick but not without passion and not without emotion; it told everything they were feeling on the inside, everything they wanted to say to each other, but couldn’t find the words to convey.

“I’ll be back for you, Eva, I swear,” Chris says. “I love you.”

By this time Erik had shed his noticeable outer armour and wrapped it up alongside Chris’s, sparring the weapons and the swords and stuffed it back into the tree trunk Eva had pulled it out of. He grabs Chris’s wrist in his and with a small bow towards Eva, drags Chris back towards the darkest part of the forest behind them.

Chris doesn’t break eye contact with Eva for even a second, his eyes wide and devastated, until both he and Erik disappear into the trees without a word, leaving Eva in the silence and darkness she was all of a sudden plunged into head first.

Eva couldn’t do anything but watch them disappear into the dark and he knew in that moment, that she would never see Chris again.

 _Love?_ That’s what he said. _I love you._

 _I love you_ was the last thing Eva said to her mother, before she left Eva behind forever.

Love was just a word. It’s just a concept. At the end of the day, it really was of no value. It really didn’t mean anything.

And neither did the past two week. Eva realized that she should have known that. Perhaps, deep down she did.

Chris said he would return, but everyone says that and no one actually does.

Not for Eva. Never for Eva.

So she starts walking. The sensation feels weird and her whole body is numb, she doesn’t even know where she’d headed until her feet leads her right up to her doorstep.

She doesn’t want to open the door. She doesn’t want to step in.

She’s afraid. She’s afraid of the silence and the loneliness that still lingered, hanging heavy in the air. She’s afraid of the silence and the loneliness that’s always been there, whose presence she’d almost forgotten about until that very moment.

She’s afraid of the silence and the loneliness that she knows will always be there like a shadow and a curse.

Eva pushes open the door without really realizing that her body is moving.

She can feel the eyes of Fy and Faen on her when she steps in; their tails uncharacteristically tucked, their ears low and their whining sad.

Just like her.

She walks in without really feeling anything, without realizing anything. The bed is empty; the snow white bear staring at her with blank, button eyes from the side table beside the bed.

It was like a wretched déjà vu to the day after she’d found Chris half dead in the forest; when she sneaked in trying not to make a sound but ended up making the absolute worst noise ever.

The split second before her foot comes down on the lose floorboard, Eva’s mind flashes back to that exact moment. She feels what she felt in at that time, she sees herself like an out of body experience, in the same exact position, hoping against hope that the situation could somehow magically reset itself and she could somehow come away from it unscathed, before the loud creaking noise would start reverberating through the whole cottage.

But it too late, as it was too late then; she could do nothing when her foot landed on the single wooden plank and a small corner, deep in her heart, the part that was already weeping out of heartbreak, she hoped that she won’t end up waking the occupant of the bed.

But there’s nothing.

No sound. No creak. No wailing racket to wake the dead.

No one in her bed.

Only silence.

Only stillness.

There’s nothing, only her in an empty house and a now vacant spot in her heart where there used to be a Chris shaped figure.

She hears Noora’s voice yelling her name before she comes crashing in through the door, panting. Many other footsteps clamber in after her but Eva doesn’t turn to look. She doesn’t care.

She hears and feels rather than see’s Noora rushing up in front of her, grabbing her by the arm. Noora’s eyes are damp and her expression is worried. She’s speaking but Eva doesn’t understand what she’s saying. Her lips are moving but there’s like an invisible barrier between her words and Eva’s ears.

“He fixed it,” Eva says. She feels her own lips moving and she feels the words coming out of her mouth. Noora seems to understand what she’s saying but Eva herself doesn’t realize she’s even speaking. “He fixed the floor…why did he do that?” She asks. It wasn’t intended as a question. It wasn’t intended as anything. She feels herself speaking but it’s like she’s listening to herself from inside a dark pit of despair. The words are tumbling off her lips and she can’t stop it from coming straight from her broken heart. “Why did he fix it? I-I didn’t asked him to…I didn’t—why… _why_ …now there’s just silence.” She’s crying, she feels the tears start trickling slowly down her face before it streams down too quickly for her to wipe away. “ _Why_ …now…now there’s nothing. Now there’s just silence and loneliness and emptiness. There’s nothing left,” she says, “Only me.”

There’s nothing left in the cottage besides a home that’s once again empty, a floorboard that’s no longer loose, and bed that will never truly feel warm and an emptiness that would never be filled again.

There’s nothing left in that cottage but a memory.

There’s nothing left but Eva.

She sobs.

**tbc.**


	9. Goodbye and Farewell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is so beyond late it’s ridiculous. I have to admit that I became distracted by other shiny things and neglected my most important OTP, but most of all the chapter itself was really quite daunting task and I guess I was trying to put it off for as long as I could. But heading into this final stretch (there will be two more chapters after this) I thought it was an insult to this story to not put it front and center once again.

 

Eva knows loss. She knows sadness. She understands both to the deepest part of her soul and the feeling of emptiness that comes along with it.

She thought she learned to live with it. After her mom died, the darkness was like a mist that was suffocating her. At times she wondered if she was still even alive and not just a shell going through life. But she still had her dad. Through the pain and the heartache they shared, at the very least they had each other.

When her dad died, that was when Eva’s world well and truly crumbled.

She had nothing. She was left with nothing. She was nothing.

It was her animals, her dogs and her cats and her rabbits and her mice and birds and her chickens, they were the ones who kept her going; the ones who gave her a reason to get up in the morning; the ones who gave her a reason to stay alive, if nothing else, to just keep on living for their sakes.

It was her friends, Noora and Sana and Vilde and Christina who kept her sane, who would not give her a moment to herself to mull over the dark thoughts inside her mind or give them life. It was her friends who dragged her out of her house and made her eat and forced her to bathe and put on nice clothes and talked to her for hours even though she didn’t have anything to contribute beyond staring blankly at the far corner wall.

It was the villagers who would send her food and clothes and beautiful flowers to liven up her house, even when her big empty mansion became a small cottage at the edge of the woods and her fine clothes and the beautiful jewellery her parents gave her became hand-me-down dresses from girls whose life she used to share. Eva didn’t miss the house, only the fond memories she was leaving behind. She didn’t miss the clothes or the jewellery, only the fact that it reminded her of her mother and spending her mornings sitting in her mother’s room playing with her things and laughing with her over nothing.

Eva doesn’t miss her old life, only the two people who were once in it and the emptiness inside her that would never again be filled.

But with Chris… for a moment, it felt like the emptiness didn’t hurt quite as much and the pain was just felt like a dull thrumming in the back of her mind. When he smiled at her and looked at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered, it gave her a sense of purpose she hadn’t felt for a long time.

But now Chris is gone and her parents are gone and Eva is left with nothing but sad memories of fonder times and a feeling of loss that just keeps on dragging her deeper into the abyss.

At times it feels like she’s lost in the darkness, battling her way through the suffocating mist and the fog, the trees surrounding her like an inescapable prison, but it isn’t. It’s not real. She’s not lost in the forest by herself, screaming into the dark for help that will never come. She isn’t in a prison, reaching out through the bars for release that’s just beyond her touch; reaching for a hand extended back to her that keeps disappearing further out of reach.

Eva isn’t anywhere but trapped in her own mind, in her own darkness, curled in her own bed that now feels much too large and much to cold; in her little cottage that’s suddenly become too big in the shadow of the absence that lingers in the corner like a ghost.

Eva thought she’d cried her tears away a long time ago, but still they come, trickling down her cheek and soaking the pillow under her face and she can do nothing to make them stop.

She misses Chris like a lost part of her soul. The empty spot he used to occupy inside her heart aches and burns and chips at her like an illness and the only thing Eva wants is just to go to sleep and never wake up again.

But her friends keep coming, one by one and all of them at once. There’s always someone there holding her and hugging her and wiping away her tears and not once do they ask her to stop crying. They hug her in bed as she cries herself to sleep and hold her until morning, or until Eva curls away from their grasp and hugs herself because all of a sudden the only arms she wants around her are arms of people who’ve gone where she can’t ever follow.

She hears their voices: Sana’s and Christina’s talking to her, saying soothing words of comfort that sound like empty whispers. She hears Vilde talking about her dolls and everything she wants to show Eva when she feels better. Eva doesn’t know if she’ll ever feel better again.

Noora’s voice; singing a soft lullaby to her as she runs her fingers gently through her hair and stays with her until she slips into a deep slumber that’s all of a sudden the only place she wants to be. When she sleeps she can forget. When she sleeps she can make herself believe that reality is the dream and that her parents are alive and when she wakes up it will be to the sight of Chris’s beautiful face looking down at her.

But she wakes up anyway and every time it happens it takes her a moment to remember that her parents are dead and Chris is gone and that she’s all alone once again.

“Eva, you need to eat something,” Noora says. “Mister Fossbakken sent along a variety of pastries for you.”

“I’m not hungry,” Eva says, curling further into herself.

“I know you’re not,” says Noora from where she’s perched on the side of the bed, her fingers running through Eva’s hair with a comforting repetition, “But you still need to eat something. Please? For me?” she says.

Eva doesn’t have to turn to know what expression Noora is wearing on her face, but she does and is proven right.

Her whole face brightens when Eva sits up, absentmindedly smoothing down her hair. She can already feel it getting a bit tangled in the back from the amount of time she spent grieving in her bed. She knows that she probably looks terrible but she can’t find it in her to care anymore.

“He’ll come back for you,” Noora says and it takes Eva a moment to understand what she’s talking about.

“He won’t,” she says, “People don’t come back…people never come back… not for me,” she says without making eye contact. In a much smaller voice she adds; “They were my parents and they left me behind. I loved Chris and he left me behind.”

“Don’t say that, Eva,” Noora says sadly. “You know he would have stayed if he could. I know it, everyone knows it. He cares about you, just like you care about him. People in town have been talking, you know, they recognized him as the stranger from the fair and a few of them realize that you were the person who was with him that night and when the attack happened, but no one told the guards when they came to question them about what they saw that day.”

“Why?” Eva asks.

“Because they could all see the difference in you. They could all tell how genuinely happy you were and… and you underestimate how much your happiness means to everyone around you,” Noora says. Eva stays silent. She doesn’t know what to even say to that. “I’ve never seen anyone look at another person the way Chris looks are you.”

Eva keeps silent for a moment. “What about you and William?” Eva asks finally.

“That’s different.”

 “How?”

“It’s because it’s in the contract,” Noora says and Eva can’t help the small smile that curls at her lips at the mental image. “Why Miss Eva, was that an actual smile? Perhaps I need to regale you with more woeful tales of the incorrigible Mister Magnusson to cheer you up.”

The light hearted moment doesn’t last no matter how much Eva tries to force it; her smile quickly drops and she looks away so that she doesn’t have to see the disappointed look on Noora’s face. “I miss him.”

“I know,” Noora says sadly. “But he’ll come back for you. I know he will. Just… don’t give up yet, Eva. Sometimes, people can surprise you.”

Eva doesn’t doubt the truth in Noora’s words but her heartache is still too fresh and her tears feel far too warm on her face. She doesn’t reply. Instead she finishes up the last bite of the bread in her hand, avoiding the pies and the tarts because just the sight of them brings up a feeling bitterness inside her gut and she can barely blink away the tears.

She lies back down after that and Noora stays with her.

Eva recalls the voices of people that pierce through the veil of her subconscious; familiar voices like Sana, Vilde and Christina’s – Noora’s voice is the one she hears most often. Sometimes she hears a familiar manly voice that she all of a sudden can’t place and it almost causes her to cry, until she hears Noora’s voice calling the name William, and then Eva buries her face in her pillow and allows the material to absorb the tears that end up leaking through. Sometimes there are voices that she knows but sounds so out of place in the homely little cottage of hers: Sara and Ingrid’s and sometimes even the Count’s.

But she just can’t bring herself to get up and greet them. She’s just so exhausted; her body, her mind and especially her spirit; just the thought of getting out of bed and going out into the world feels like an obstacle thats nearly insurmountable.

Sometimes she feels warm bodies curled up on the mattress by her legs; she tries not to cry when she reaches out to run her fingers through Fy and Faen’s fur. She hears their soft, sad whining and it takes all her willpower not to bury her face in her pillow and sob.

They miss Chris as much as she does.

Noora feeds her animals and cleans up after them because Eva just doesn’t have the strength to move and Eva hopes that one day she’ll be able to tell Noora just how much her being there truly means to her; that one day she will be able to repay her friend for everything she put on hold to stay there and take care of her.

Sometimes at night when Eva is startled awake, out of a terrible nightmare, she feels Noora’s familiar comforting arms around her, holding her close while they both sleep; she looks over at the dinner table across the room and sees William sitting there by the candlelight reading a book and in that moment, perhaps even for a second, Eva feels a little less alone.

Three weeks pass – at least it’s how long Noora tells her it’s been, before Eva wakes one morning and feels a little less dead on the inside; before she looks out the window and sees the sun shining over the treetops and the little blue birds singing in the trees at the edge of the forest and she realizes what a beautiful morning it is that day.

Three weeks before she manages to get herself up out of bed, comb her hair and put on something nice without having someone there to force her to.

Noora comes back from putting the clothes out on the line to find her at the kitchen washing the remnants of the dishes in the sink.

“Good morning,” she greets and Eva can hear the happiness in her voice without having to look around to see her smile.

“It is,” Eva says softly, turning around to look at her beloved friend. “It is a good morning.”

Noora smiles so wide her eyes nearly disappear behind the apple of her cheeks. “I’m glad.”

Christina comes later that morning with cheese and wine and nearly cries when she sees Eva sitting at the table with Noora, smiling.

Eva doesn’t drink; at least she doesn’t drink when it’s not the occasion. Christina used to make fun of her low tolerance for alcoholic beverages even though she was so much better than Vilde who used to throw herself at every eligible bachelor in the tavern after just one pint. But that was Vilde before Magnus came along and settled himself comfortably into her life.

But Eva drinks that morning more than she’s ever drank in her life. She realizes that with every drop of wine she downed the little image of Chris in her mind would slip further and further away until she finally forgets that he was ever there.

For the first time in weeks, she forgets about the little empty part of her soul and how much it hurt.

For the first time in weeks, Eve forgets about how much pain she feels in her heart and the empty little corner of her soul that will never again be whole.

It was Fy that brought everything to ahead that morning; her whining and scratching at the floor by the small table beside the door prompts Eva to go see what was causing her so much distress.

The moment she crouches down to see what it was Fy was trying to reach for with her muzzle, she immediately stills in place, memories of a morning not tainted by pain and heartbreak flashing through her mind like a ghost of the past.

Noora and Christina notice her hesitance and came over to see what had gotten her so spooked but Eva can’t find the words to explain or the will power to keep the tears from once again pooling in the corner of her eyes.

On the floor behind the table, tucked half under one of the legs – most likely having been blown off the table by a breeze, was a smudged, rolled up parchment sitting there unnoticed.

Eva can’t find the words to answer when Christina and Noora asks her what’s wrong. Fy had stopped her scraping at the floor and was sitting back staring at Eva with eyes that shone of sadness; as if she understood more of what was happening than people expected of a dog.

Eva reaches over with a shaking hand to pry the parchment out of its hiding place, getting to her feet stiffly and walking over to the table before even daring to open it to see what secrets it was hiding.

Noora and Christina just follow her silently, standing over her shoulder when she takes seat and places the parchment on the table in front of her, just staring at it as if she could see through to the inside without having to even open it.

Just the sight of it fills her with terror she didn’t know she could feel. All of a sudden her heart feels like it’s pounding in her throat and Chris’s face comes into the foreground of her memory; the sight of his smile and the sound of his laugh and the way he always made Eva feel so beautiful by just looking at her with his gorgeous eyes.

She used to wonder what it was he really saw when he looked at her; some strange, naïve girl who brought an enemy into her home and treated him like a friend. A lonely girl so desperate for companionship she latched onto the first stranger she stumbled across. Sometimes Eva wondered whether she looked as pathetic to the outside world as she sometimes felt on the inside.

She wondered if Chris saw the same thing when he looked at her as she did when she looked at him: _hope_.

Without thinking about it, Eva reaches over, holding down one end of the parchment and using her other hand to roll it out, smoothening it over the surface of the table.

Immediately the breath is driven from her lungs.

She hears rather than sees the reactions of Noora and Christina behind her when their eyes fall on the same thing she’s looking at.

On the smudged parchment; once clean and white, thought slightly stained yellow with age; the edges smudged with dust from the writing coal, is a drawing of a girl, standing by a sink slightly turned towards the artist. Behind her is a window with the sun shining brightly over the top of the trees in the distance and the rays from the sunlight is shining down on her back, illuminating her like a halo. The girl is gorgeous, drawn with attention to the finest detail; the lines of her face are soft and kindly and her hair cascades down past her shoulder in soft waves.

But it’s her eyes that are the most captivating; they sparkle with a light that shines through the parchment, enchanting and hypnotising and Eva can’t bring herself to even blink much less look away.

_It’s her._

It takes her a moment to realize it because the girl in the drawing is the most beautiful person she’s ever seen – but it’s her.

It’s her sink and her window and the girl is wearing Eva’s dress and she can even see the figures of Fy and Faen drawn in the reflection of the glass.

The girl in the picture is her and she’s breath-taking.

“Oh Eva,” Noora says, “It’s _gorgeous_!”

Eva finds herself nodding through she can’t find the words to answer.

“ _You_ ’re gorgeous,” says Christina in awe.

Eva doesn’t answer; she can’t bear to tear her eyes away from the sight.

Is this really how Chris saw her? Is this really what he saw when he looked at her? It’s a strange thing to see the awe in someone’s eyes when they looked at you but it was even stranger getting a glimpse of yourself through someone else’s eyes and Eva feels like she’s been given the once in a lifetime chance to do exactly that.

If this was how Chris saw her then in that moment, Eva thinks she might finally understand; she might finally accept that maybe… just maybe… she really is that beautiful in someone else’s eyes.

In Chris’s eyes.

She doesn’t realize she’s crying until she feels the droplets of tears splashing onto her arm. She feels the quiver of her bottom lip when she says; “I loved him,” though it comes out more like a sob. The parchment springs back in a roll when Eva retracts her hands to cover her face, not really trying to quell her tears or wipe them away, just trying to… _hide_ – from her pain and her sorrow and the eyes of sadness she can feel boring into the back of her head. She feels Noora’s arms circling her shoulders from behind and her soft cheek on the top of her head before she adds; “I love him still.”

“I know,” Noora says sadly. “We all know.”

Eva feels another part of arms around her and Christina’s comforting figure joining the embrace, yet she can’t stop her tears from flowing.

Eva is still crying when Sana and Vilde come a while later and without word join in the embrace, holding their dear friend and looking on helplessly as she continues disappearing further and further away into her grief.

Eva continues crying without recess even when her eyes sting and her head starts pounding and her throat becomes dry from her wail. She’s surrounded by her friends and her animals in the house that used to mean everything, and yet inside her heart she couldn’t have felt more alone.

**Tbc.**


	10. A Fair Godmother and the Pumpkin Carriage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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Four months.

That’s how long Noora tells her it’s been. Eva doesn’t keep track; she doesn’t think of much these days beyond getting up out of bed and putting one foot ahead of the other and powering on through the day. She tried returning to work at the Count’s mansion but he took one look at her and sent her off back home with some freshly baked biscuits and told her than things weren’t going to fall apart in her absence, it was alright for her to take time to truly heal.

Eva yearns to return back to normalcy, her normal life and her normal job, leaving behind those wondrous few weeks in the past where it belongs as a fond memory. But at the same time, she still can’t walk past the road in front of the Count’s mansion without seeing a ghostly shape leaning up against the tree waiting for her, taunting her like an illusion by the god of trickery.

Her tears stay where they are now, she refuses to let them come anymore. She’s tired of being sad and she’s tired of being weak and mulling over the past only causes her to be both at the same time.

She walks to town by herself now without one of her friends dragging her there. The townsfolk treat her kindly but she can see the pity shining in their eyes as clear as the sky is blue and all it does it drive her away. Only the kindly woman who sells flowers off her cart, who still reaches over to tuck a single blue flower behind Eva’s ear when she passes by, who smiles at her and cups her cheek and tells her everything will be alright, and Mister Fossbakken continue looking at her and treating her the exact same way: without sadness and without pity.

Mister Fossbakken said to her one morning; “He was a good lad,” and Eva had to excuse herself and hide in the alley because she couldn’t stop the way her heart started pounding in her chest.

Four months.

Eva wonders if it had all been a dream because sometimes it feels that way.

But something is different in the air that morning when she awoke; like a strange feeling deep down in her gut that she can’t put her finger on and it isn’t until she walks into town that she realizes how right she is.

Something is buzzing in the air; she can feel it from the moment she steps off the dirt road, through the wooden archway onto the cobblestone path; a strange sort of enthusiasm and excited murmurings of the people walking past. It isn’t until she ventures deeper towards the center of the town – it feels like the entire population is out and about, mingling with each other and talking excitedly over something Eva can’t begin to decipher, and runs into Vilde who is almost skipping in her step; even Sana beside her looks uncharacteristically chipper – that she’s finally brought up on the latest news.

“Oh Eva,” Vilde says, “Did you hear? The war… it’s-it’s over!” she exclaims loudly; the couple of people walking past cheer in unison at her words.

“W-What?” she asks in disbelief.

“It’s true,” says Sana. “A messenger from the palace came just this morning to make the official announcement.”

“It’s over?” she repeats, mostly to herself. Can it really be true? Eva can’t even remember a time when their country had not been at war. Just the idea of it is… inconceivable. “How?”

“How to you think!” Vilde blurts out. Eva can see Sana reaching over as if to stop Vilde but she isn’t fast enough. “It must have been him – _Chris_ ,” she says the name in a more hushed tone, grinning widely through eyes that are sparkling with almost childlike enthusiasm.

Beside her Eva can hear Sana physically exhaling, running a hand over her face tiredly.

Hearing the name after so long… all sounds around her all of a sudden dies away and it’s just Eva in that moment, the name Chris resounding like an echo in her brain. Her dark train of thought is fortunately interrupted by Noora, Christina and William’s arrival not long after.

“Eva, did you hear?” yells Noora excitedly before she’s even within speaking range, hollering over the sounds of conversation going on at every point in the town center.

Eva waits until she jogs up, immediately coming in for a hug, to say that she’d just heard from Vilde.

“But how?” Christina asks, echoing Eva’s own query.   

It’s William who speaks though Eva can see out of the corner of her eye Vilde opening her mouth to do the same. “The Southern Generals called for a temporary cease-fire about a month ago. I overhead my parents talking about it in a letter my brother had sent from the front lines. It was a very hush-hush situation, essentially no one knew about it except for the higher-ups involved in the negotiations. I don’t know the finer points of it all, but it seems like they somehow came to an agreement for a truce. Supposedly the orders came from the very top of the Southern chain of command – the King himself.”

“I thought the Southern king was mad?” Christina says, “Or at least that’s what the rumours say.”

William only shrugged. “That is what we all hear. But my brother had said that even the Southern army don’t know much about their own king – only that he lives in seclusion in the palace with his advisors as his only company, so the rumour might not be too far off.”

“But regardless, I think it’s reason to celebrate,” Christina announces excitedly, “Drinks are on me!”

Eva hangs back as the rest head towards Christina’s tavern; she feels Noora’s arms slipping around her own and looks up to see her smiling face looking back at her.

“I didn’t want to say it out loud with everyone around,” Noora says, “But we know how this really came about right?”

Eva sighs. “Don’t worry, Vilde already said it out loud,” she says but she doesn’t respond to the insinuation. “Can… Can we just not talk about it? Please.”

Noora’s smile slips slightly but doesn’t fall away completely. “Alright,” she says. “So… nice weather we’re having today isn’t it?” she asks instead.

Eva smiles a little before agreeing, leaning in closer to Noora as they trail after the rest of the group and the rest of the day passes without incident.

The excitement in the air lasts for days, never lessening, never dulling.

People from neighbouring towns slowly start flooding in from every corner, excited to share in the moment of celebration with their fellows. All of them headed up to the palace to help in the celebration ball that was being organized. No one really knew the particulars of what was taking place, only that the buzz was contagious even from afar.

It’s the morning of the seventh day from the time the news first broke that the serenity that had come over the place gets upturned once again when the thundering of hooves and the sound of trumpets and neighing horses in the air signals the arrival of the Crown’s messenger and the palace guards.

They gallop into the center of town in a giant spectacle that attracts all the villagers to convene in the square, even Eva who’d come that morning to buy groceries.

“Too long has our nation been at war,” the messenger starts, stepping up onto the stage that had been erected right in the middle of the town square. The guards remained perched on their neighing horses, excitedly treading around among the townsfolk, their hooves clomping almost rhythmically on the stony ground. “Too many of our grandfathers and fathers, brothers and sons; our family – too many of them have been lost to this senseless violence already – but that it all in the past, for the fighting has ceased!” he announces to a thundering cheer. “Today I come before you with great news, one that I pass on with great honour. Ravens have been sent out to neighbouring towns and villages bearing the same news, and that is in celebration of this historical time and momentous occasion that will be talked about by our children and their children and their children to come; the Crown will be throwing a celebratory ball in honour of the people that have gone before us, and ladies and gentlemen of this beautiful nation – you are all invited!”

There was a beat where the silence was nearly suffocating as everyone turned to the person next to them to confirm they’d indeed heard right before there was an explosion of noise that rattled the windows and sent startled dogs howling at nothing.

Eva is still in trying to process the words when she feels herself engulfed by hugs, Vilde’s voice standing up even above all the noise and cheers.

“Is this true? Did he say what it sounded like he said?” she asked in disbelief. “Magnus? Did we really just hear that?” she asked, turning to the widely grinning Magnus at her side.

“You heard right, Vilde,” he said, “We’ve been invited to the palace.”

Vilde maintained her dazed look, like her brain was unable to truly process the information that it had been given.

“Vilde!” Christina says, grabbing her friend by the upper arms, shaking her excitedly. “We’re going to the official ball!”

Only then does it seem to truly dawn on Vilde.

Her screech of excitement is talked about for years to come.

Eva however doesn’t feel the same level of excitement as the rest of them. If anything, she finds it difficult to keep the smile on her face and her excited demeanour from appearing forced. She lets her friends celebrate and attempts to put up a strong front and stays around for a while before finally excusing herself to leave.

The truth is she doesn’t know how to feel about everything. She’s heard the stories and she knows the insinuation, the reason why the war ended and why the ball is taking place, but a small, tired part of her heart; the one that keeps trying to flicker back to life futilely, that keeps trying to tell her that what Vilde and Noora says is true; trying to give her hope and make her remember the small, warm smile and the eyes that looked at her like she was the most beautiful thing in the world; the one that whispers to her ‘it is him, he’s back’ – the part she’s tried so hard to heal over the last couple of months; all it does is remind her of her pain and everything she’s suffered through and the truth is… she’s afraid.

She’s afraid of getting her hopes up and being let down, but at the same time, she’s also afraid of not being let down. She wants Chris back but also the possibility of having him back is terrifying to her, almost as much as the possibility that he hasn’t returned.

She’s come too far and been hurt too many times. She doesn’t know if she’d survive another heartbreak.

Ultimately, she’s terrified of hoping.

What if Chris has indeed returned? What will Eva do if he has to leave again? Eva doesn’t think she can handle that.

But hasn’t Chris returned, then Eva isn’t at risk of getting her heart broken again. Maybe a small part of her wants that instead – _needs_ it for her own sake.

“Eva!”

She senses Noora coming up beside her before she hears her calling her name.

“The ball is in two days,” Noora says when she catches up, falling in step with Eva as they walk through the dirt road towards Eva’s home. “You must go with us,” she adds.

Eva stays silent.

“You know, this could mean –”

“ _Noora_ ,” Eva says sternly. “Just… please…”

Noora sighs sadly. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

Eva tries not to tear up when the silence comes as they continue down the path, the feeling of guilt for snapping at her friend gnawing at her conscience. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly, “I just… I’m afraid,” she says, looking at the ground. “I know what you’re thinking and what you’re about to say; what if he’s back – I know that. But… what if he _is_ back – and he leaves again? What if he isn’t back? What will I do then if I go there with my hopes up, only to get crushed? I… I don’t know if I can live through that again.”

Noora looks sad and Eva feels bad for making her feel that way. “You’re right,” Noora says, “I didn’t even think of that. I’m sorry.”

Eva wants to tell her that she has nothing to be sorry for but she can’t find the words. She’s afraid that if she opens her mouth to speak she won’t be able to keep her sobs away so she stays silent.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Noora says, slinging an arm around Eva’s shoulder comfortingly. “It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” Eva says, looking up at Noora, this time unable to will away the tears pooling in the corner of her eyes.

“Oh, Eva,” Noora says, stopping in her tracks and pulling Eva into a firm embrace and Eva just gives up trying to put up a strong front and just lets her tears flow onto her friends shoulder. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing at all.”

Noora walks her the rest of the way home and stays with her for the night. At some point Eva hears the sound of a horse neighing outside her door and William’s voice talking with Noora somewhere in her kitchen but she’s too far gone in her dreams to get up and apologize to him for taking Noora away once again.

At least, she didn’t think she’d get the chance to until morning comes and she wakes up to a silent house, so early in the day that even Fy and Faen are still asleep at the foot of her bed – it’s where they now constantly sleep, barely leaving her side as if they can tell that she doesn’t want to be alone. To her surprise she finds William sitting at her dinner table, his attention preoccupied in reading a parchment he has grasped tight in his hands.

Eva tries to not make a sound to attract his attention but she gets it anyway when the sound of his soft greeting reaches her ear. She looks up sheepishly just in time to see him placing the parchment back down on the table. “Noora went home to get a change of clothes,” he tells her before she even gets a chance to return his greeting. “She didn’t think you’d be awake for a while.”

Eva just nods wordlessly, not really knowing what to say. “You didn’t have to stay,” she says finally, smoothing down her hair with a nervous hand, “I’m sorry for troubling you.”

William smiles at that, leaning back in his seat. “It’s no trouble at all,” he says. “Friends of Noora’s are friends of mine all the same.”

Eva tries to reciprocate the smile but doesn’t doubt that it looks more pained than an actual smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you this, but I’m happy she’s with you, William. You’re a good person; she’s lucky to have you.”

William looks touched at her words. “I think it’s the other way around,” he says fondly. “Noora told me that you’ve decided not to go to the ball?” Eva feels her heart dropping again at the mention which William notices because he quickly adds; “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No, it’s alright. It isn’t your fault. I just… I don’t think it’s the right place for me… not right now.”

William doesn’t answer though Eva notices him nodding his head a little.

“For what it’s worth… I think he’d be a fool not to return. Anyone would be lucky to call you theirs,” William says and Eva finds herself blushing despite her best efforts. “Also I never got a chance to thank him for saving my life and Noora’s – thank him properly anyway, and that will just not do. I say, if he doesn’t return, the three of us should go out there to look for him and drag his foolish behind back here. I think the both of us are fully aware of what Noora can do when push comes to shove.”

That statement causes Eva to laugh. A heartfelt one that she feels to her soul and it feels good. Tears spring to her eyes once she’s done and for the first time in a while it’s not out of sadness.

William looks pleased when she glances over at him, seeing him staring back.

“Thank you,” Eva says, reaching up to wipe the single tear trickling down her cheek. William somehow gave her something she didn’t know she needed in that moment: a little splice of normalcy that not even Noora managed to do, though it was no fault of her own. Noora is her friend and she sees Eva’s sadness and wants to fix it by any means necessary. William has no emotional connection to her outside of them having Noora in common and somehow hearing him talking about Chris that way, it just didn’t hurt quite as much.

“I’m happy to be of service,” William says with a small bow which makes Eva smile again.

Eva lets Noora know of William’s contribution to her slightly less than dour mood that morning and Noora’s pride is obvious when she says; “I knew it was worth keeping him around.” But it makes Eva laugh and the joyful look on Noora’s face when she does is worth all the happiness in the world.

Eva stays home for the two days before the ball; she can feel the excitement in the air even all the way from the cottage. She ventured into town just once only to be met by a packed town and women of all ages running around the streets holding bundles of fabric and embroidery and jewellery before she even entered, looking as anxious as they do excited and immediately abandoned her quest. After all she didn’t actually need food all that badly.

The eve of the ball is upon the town in almost no time at all, just before the sun begins its descent behind the mountains; the thundering of carriages and horses causing an almost constant shockwave that carries through the land.

Noora, Sana, Vilde, Christina and their escorts come by Eva’s cottage before they begin their journey towards the castle, looking more sad than happy considering they were on the way to the biggest celebration in the history of their nation. Noora in particular looked absolutely crushed that Eva had inevitably decided not to join them despite her reassurance to the contrary.

Deep down, Eva did feel bad for disappointing her friend that way, after everything Noora had done for her and her being there for Eva when Eva needed her the most. Ultimately, as the ball drew ever nearer, even her heart that had been so adamant in its decision to forgo it, there was a small part of it that had perhaps teetered on the precipice of wanting to actually go, but ultimately the final decision had been made by Eva’s brain instead of her heart.

What it came down to was really the fact that even if she wanted to go, she just had nothing to wear.

Eva knew that Noora would absolutely have given her the dress right off her bodice had she mentioned it, so she was careful not to do so.

Instead, she finds herself on the lowest step of her porch, waving at her friends disappearing in the fancy carriage towards the palace; a destination that seemed so far it appeared almost like a speck in the distance from where Eva is standing. Eventually they disappear completely behind the foliage of trees and the little hill beyond Eva’s line of sight and once again she’s completely alone.

Eva forces herself not to dwell on it, climbing up the single step across the wooden porch and closing the door behind her when she enters her cottage. All of a sudden everything just seems too large and Eva feels like a little broken doll left out by the gutter in the cold. She exhales once and finds herself sliding down to the floor, leaning heavily against the wooden door, pulling her knees up to her chest and burying her face in her arms.

She doesn’t cry; for the first time in a while, the emptiness of her home and the thoughts of Chris don’t make her feel like crying. She just feels empty – like she’s exhausted every bit of her reserve just being sad and wallowing in the past for so long.

She’s just tired, not the kind of tired that can be cured by rest but just an overwhelming sense of weariness and exhaustion that she doesn’t think will ever really go away.

She feels something soft and wet nudging her hand and finally looks up to the sad eyes of Fy staring at her, her grey speckled muzzle perched on the back of Eva’s hand offering her comfort the only way she knows how. Faen in about a foot behind lying on his stomach, his ear perked and even though his attention is on Eva, Eva can tell that his senses are focused on something else. Fy is getting on in the years so it usually takes her a little longer to notice the same thing Faen does, but she moment she does, her ears perk and she lets out a little whine as Faen leaps to his feet, ears flat and tail tucked. Both are staring intently at the door behind Eva, not making any threatening noises but making it obvious to Eva that someone is indeed approaching her cottage. Whoever it is, Eva knows it not any of her immediate friends because her dogs would never have that kind of reaction to them.

Not a few seconds later, there is a soft knock at the door that forces Eva to her feet. She pats of Fy and Faen comfortingly on the head. She knows it’s no one immediately threatening at least because the dogs aren’t barking or acting in anyway aggressive, only cautious, so she swallows the sudden pounding of her heart as she reaches over to grasp the doorknob.

“Eva,” comes the voice – it’s not unfamiliar so much as surprising causing Eva to raise her eyebrows, “It’s me.”

Now completely free of fear and hesitation, Eva grips the doorknob, pulling the door open to reveal the too familiar stout figure standing on her doorstep with a wide smile. She can see the wooden cart with a wide variety of wild flowers sitting just beyond her porch.

“Mrs. Skrulle?” Eva says, half in confusion and half in query. “What are you doing here?”

The older woman’s smile falters slightly as it becomes apparent that she’s wondering the same thing. “Would you mind if I come in, Eva? It’s a bit chilly out here at this time of the day.”

“O-Of course,” says Eva immediately, stepping aside and allowing the woman to step in to her house. She motions to the table in a silent invitation, pulling out one of the chairs for the older woman and taking the opposite one for herself as Mrs. Skrulle drops herself into the seat with an exhale.

“I don’t think I’ve ventured this far out of town in years!” she says with a laugh, pulling off her gloves and placing them on the table by her elbow.

“I… Don’t think I don’t appreciate the visit, ma’am, but… is something the matter?” Eva asks, “You didn’t go to the ball?”

“I should think to ask you the same thing,” she admonishes playfully. “Also a party like that is for you young children so all the rich older men can ogle you as you dance. No one wants to stare at this old woman shaking everything god gave her and perhaps jarring a few bones in the process,” she laughs, more to herself because Eva’s still too confused to muster up any reaction beyond cautious confusion.

Eva just nods, knowing her bewilderment is showing clear on her face.

Mrs. Skrulle chuckles softly to herself a moment longer before she takes a deep breath, leaning forward on her elbows to just lock eyes on Eva. She doesn’t say anything for a whole, she barely even blinks and Eva finds herself becoming more and more self-conscious as the seconds tick by.

Finally the woman moves, reaching over to cup the side of Eva’s face in her palm; her expression one of wilfulness and reminiscence as she stares at Eva like she’s looking at a completely different person at the same time.

“Your mother and I used to be best friends, did you know that?” she says eventually.

The suddenness of the words and the unexpected topic throws Eva. She can only manage a small shake of her head.

Mrs. Skrulle looks saddened by her response but not really surprised. “I supposed that’s my fault. I was…” she starts, taking a deep breath before trailing off into uncertainty and finally looking away from Eva to stare at the table. Her face twisted in pained regret. Eva doesn’t push even though she finds herself completely transfixed by the woman’s reaction, especially after the unexpected visit and her decision to come there that night. “When you were born – you were the most beautiful little girl I had ever laid eyes on… your parents asked me to be your godmother,” she says, finally looking up.

“Wh-What?” Eva blinks rapidly at the revelation but finds herself unable to think of anything to say.

The woman nods sadly. “I’m afraid I’ve been a terrible one. We – your mother and I… we had something of a falling out. It was over something childish and stupid and every day that passed I told myself that I was going to go over to your house and apologize for it. But… I never got the chance. She passed before I managed to muster up the courage to stop being so scared and the worst friend a person could ever had asked for. Consumed by guilt and everything I wanted to say and everything I’d never again get the chance to say, I ran – I thought of you and your father trying to deal with that horrible tragedy but my selfishness had gotten the best of me. For years after that I didn’t think of her or your father or you or this place.

“It wasn’t until I returned many years later that I learned what had happed. When I learned everything that had happened to your family since but by then I knew it was too late. I’d failed you as I failed your mother. I didn’t take care of you like a godmother should have when she passed and I was a horrid one to leave you alone after your father followed her. And since then I’d just been too consumed by shame and guilt to even try and reach out. The most I could do was to give you those worthless little flowers when you passed by my cart and hope that you’d never find out the weight of the guilt I carried.”

Eva is completely speechless when Mrs. Skrulle finally trails off, her face buried in a hand though Eva can see the droplets of tears leaking through her fingers. She immediately reaches over to grasp the hand lying limp before her, forcing the older woman to finally look up at meet her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Eva,” she says before Eva has the chance to reply, “I’m _so_ sorry for abandoning you when you needed someone. Your parents made me your godmother and I left you alone to fend for yourself. Your mother must be so angry looking down at me.”

Eva opens her mouth to reply, but finds herself unable to think of anything to say. She’d gone through emotional hell the last few months over Chris and for years before that because of her parents; but looking at the kindly woman before her; the woman who always gave her the most beautiful flowers and tucked little buds behind her ears and in her hair to make her feel better; the woman who always offered kindly words to Eva as she passed and one of the people Eva looked forward to seeing whenever she ventured into town; looking at her so upset and guilt-ridden, so sad and troubled by things that had happened in the past – Eva realizes then that she isn’t the only person who’d been consumed by their own darkness.

She realizes that as alone as she’d felt despite her friends and her animals being around her, it wasn’t the physical kind of loneliness that was the most painful, because Eva didn’t think she could have asked for better friends or a better support that everything she had. But it was the kind of alone that she knew none of her friends had ever experienced and one she wouldn’t wish on her worst enemy.

It’s the kind of loneliness when you realize that no else really understands what you’ve been through and how you’re feeling.

Once upon a time ago, she saw the same kind of hurt in Chris and she knew that he understood.

But looking at the woman staring back at her through eyes still glistening with unshed tears, Eva realizes that she’s looking into eyes that are so similar to her own that she might as well have been staring in a mirror. Eyes that shine with sadness as well as guilt and profound loneliness and for the first time in a long time, Eva feels like someone truly understands her feeling of loss. When her father died, the most painful realization was that Eva was all alone with the memories of her mother. Only she remembered how beautiful her mother’s smile was and the sound of her laugh and the way she liked to wear pearl necklace twice wrapped on her wrist like a bracelet. Her parents had no other family, so when they died, the legacy of their lives and the memories they shared and the life they lived all died with them; only left were the crumbs that Eva had and cherished like it was the only thing she had that was of value.

But Mrs. Skrulle knew her mother, had been best friends with her despite how their friendship ultimately ended.

Eva realizes at that moment that she probably _does_ remember how beautiful her mother’s smile was and the sound of her laugh and how in love their parents were with each other because that’s the thing Eva remembers the most when she looks back on the memories she has.

But where Eva has Noora and Sana and Christina and Vilde and all the others that came along as a packaged deal like William and Magnus and mister Fossbakken, Mrs. Skrulle doesn’t seem like she had anyone and in that moment, Eva finally sees that perhaps in a way, her life after her parents died hadn’t been all that terrible after all.

“It’s alright, Mrs. Skrulle,” Eva says, reaching over with both hands to cover hers, “You’re here now and that’s the only thing that matters.”

The woman lets out an anguished sob before leaning across the table to grab Eva in a tight hug. Eva finds herself smiling as she returns it easily.

They take a moment to gather themselves after that before the usual wide smile is once again plastered onto the older woman’s face. Eva relishes in the sight.

“So, Eva,” the woman sniffled, wiping the remaining tears with the back of her hand before she levels Eva with a look once again. “Your friends told me you decided not to go to the ball either and until you opened that door, I had been hoping they were lying.” The immediate shift in subject almost unseated Eva as she scrambles for a response but isn’t given the chance to do so. “Listen to me, Eva, as someone who’s lived the better part of her miserable life drowning in regret – it isn’t a good place to be in. I understand your hesitance – I _know_ who you were with and what’s happened to you over the last few months.”

“How?” Eva finds her mouth agape at the revelation.

Mrs. Skrulle wears the smug look a little too easily after her moment of emotional vulnerability not even a few minutes ago. “You would be surprised by how talkative Christina can be when she’d had a few too much to drink after closing the tavern. I usually stumble across her before she leaves and the alcohol is more than willing to reveal a secret or two.”

Eva doesn’t know whether to be concerned or angry at Christina for seemingly revealing her secret not knowing if anyone of concern had been around, but she finds herself shaking herself through her smile instead.

The woman’s expression turns serious again. “I think I can guess why you’re reluctant to go even though you’re one of the prettiest of the girls in the whole kingdom –” Eva blushes at that, “– However, if there’s even the _smallest_ doubt in your mind about your decision to not go, then I can tell you from experience that it will stay with you and haunt you until the day you die.”

Eva looks down at that, all of a sudden the woman’s eyes seem to see too deep into her soul and she can’t maintain the façade any more. “I should have gone,” she admits finally, “I want to go but… but I’m afraid.”

“Being afraid is good,” the woman says, “Being afraid means that you’re _alive_. And isn’t that a good thing?”

Eva just stares at the woman, finding her staring just as intently back. It’s as if a steel gate finally opened inside Eva’s heart; the mechanisms and gears turn and the myriad of locks and bolts become unhinged and fall off and all of a sudden the gate she’s kept so tightly shut for so long swings open and on the other side of that there’s a blinding light that warms Eva to the core.

“I have nothing to wear,” Eva says finally.

Mrs. Skrulle’s smile morphs into a wide grin immediately and she jumps to her feet with speed and grace she definitely hadn’t come in with. “Your parents made me your godmother, and I did a terrible job at it, but tonight I will instead be the fairy godmother your mother probably used to tell you about in your bedtime stories,” she says before sprinting out the door.

Eva only watched her disappear confusedly but makes not move to follow her. Instead she looks down at Fy and Faen who have been sitting a few feet away staring at the events with wide eyes.

Mrs. Skrulle isn’t away for a minute before the door swings back open with a bang as it collides with the wall behind, sending both Fy and Faen leaping to the feet and causing the cats to hiss from where they were perched somewhere in the cottage.

In her arms is a giant wooden chest – the mere sight of it stirs a memory from the deep recesses of Eva’s mind. Absentmindedly she gets to her feet, taking one cautious step forward after another, her arm outstretched reaching to touch the surface of the wooden chest.

“I remember this,” Eva says, more to herself, “It belonged to my mother.”

The woman nods enthusiastically. “You have good memory, Eva. It was your mother’s and now it’s yours. She’d given it to me for safekeeping when you were very young, and after our falling out I just… I suppose it became just too painful to think about and I tried to forget that it was ever in my possession. It was never mine to keep and I apologize dearly for keeping it away from you for so long.”

Eva just shakes her head in reply. “What’s in it?” Her fingers brush across the surface of the chest. The wood had aged, but chest itself is clean and obviously been taken good cared of for a long time.

The woman’s smile grows as she places the chest on the table. She moves to open it but hesitates at the last minute and instead steps aside, motioning for Eva to have the honours instead.

Eva swallows the lump in her throat as she reaches for the latch with shaking hands. She can feel the hairs on the back of her neck rising and the chill that all of a sudden appeared in the air. She unlocks the lid and slowly lifts it up, allowing it to fall against the back as her eyes adjust to the sight she finds awaiting her at the bottom of the chest.

“Do you know the story of how your parents met?” the woman asks when it’s clear that Eva is completely frozen where she’s standing.

Eva nods and reluctantly looks away from the content of the box to meet the woman’s eyes. “It was at a…” she trails off, her mouth all of a sudden too dry to speak, “A ball,” she finally manages to say.

Mrs. Skrulle nods excitedly. “Yes, it was during a ball at the palace. This was the dress your mother was wearing then and she was the most beautiful woman in the kingdom that night. She had to fight off advances by many visiting dignitaries and princes that night.”

Eva looks back down at the dress folded neatly at the bottom and finally reaches out to grip it carefully with two fingers around the collar, pulling it out inch by inch and savouring in the sight and the beauty of it as it slowly revealed itself.

“It’s… it’s breath taking,” Eva gasps when the entire dress is finally out and hanging in her hands, the material so fine and soft that the lightest breeze causes the hem to brush against the floor at Eva’s feet as it sways.

The dress is dark blue, like the darkened sky in the night speckled with the finest beads and crystals. The upper back is bare though the bodice is full and extends all the way down the sleeves that cut off near her fingers, and a see-through veil with a smattering of crystals that clung to it like a blanket of starts, extending past the shoulders and trailing behind like a cape.

“Put it on!” the woman urges, all but pushing Eva towards the small nook in the corner of her room that she uses to change and Eva finds herself walking towards it absentmindedly, her eyes still unable to look away from the beauty of the dress.

Eva doesn’t know how she functioned, she doesn’t even remember putting on the dress and feeling Mrs. Skrulle’s cool fingers cinching up the button up the side of the bodice. It moulds to Eva’s body perfectly as if it had been made for her.

Eva feels the material snug against her skin and finds herself subconsciously circling her arms around herself, pretending for a moment that it was another pair of arms holding her in a dress that somehow still even smells like her mother. Eva inhales deeply and tries not to cry as the flashes of memories she long thought she’d forgotten assaults her senses like she’s experiencing them all over again.

She senses the woman still working diligently helping her into the dress, adjusting the skirt and the cloak like veil and smoothing down the material on Eva’s side and back but she can do nothing beyond standing there hugging herself and pretending the arms belong to her mother instead.

“Eva.”

She hears the voice calling her softly and finally opens her eyes; now blurry with unshed tears and finds the woman’s awestruck gaze completely transfixed on her.

Her mouth moves but no words come out, instead she motions towards the mirror sitting at the corner of the room, forgotten and gathering dust; holding a hand out to Eva to grasp as her other one takes a careful handful of the material of the skirt so that she wouldn’t trod on it when she walks.

Eva doesn’t look immediately when she finds herself in front of the mirror. Perhaps she’s afraid. Perhaps even, if she doesn’t look and she doesn’t see herself, she can continue pretending that she’s her mother instead standing there in that dress.

When she does finally look up, she finds herself speechless in awe.

Eva never thought of herself as exceptionally beautiful. Noora always used to shut down even the notion when Eva accidentally said it aloud and obviously Chris had seen something completely different in Eva than Eva could see herself.

The first time she looked at the drawing Chris had made her – the drawing she kept tucked in a book alongside the portraits of her parents that she was still too sad to gaze upon – she thought perhaps she could see what Chris had seen when he looked at her.

But looking at herself in the mirror, standing there in the gorgeous dress that had once upon a time ago been worn by her beloved mother – looking so much like her in that moment that the only thing Eva could think to say was:

“Wow.”

“Indeed, wow,” Mrs. Skrulle says. “Eva… just… I didn’t think I’d ever gaze upon a sight as beautiful in my lifetime. You look like your mother, but at the same time you look just like _Eva_ ,” she says, coming up to stand beside her as they gaze at their reflections standing side by side in the mirror, “And the sight I see is of the most beautiful woman in the kingdom, in _every_ way.”

They both stand there in silence for a while longer, Eva still hasn’t been able to form words before the woman holds up a finger as if asking her to hold on and rushes back towards the chest. She reaches in and pulls out another item that Eva hadn’t even noticed before because she’d been completely transfixed by the dress.

It’s a pair of shoes and until that second, Eva didn’t think there would be anything comparable to the beauty of the dress, but there it is in plain sight: the most beautiful pair of shoes Eva has ever seen. 

It’s like they had been carved from a crystal egg by the hands of the most skilled craftsman. They glittered and shined like precious jewels even in the light of the candles in her dimly lit cottage.

 

“The shoes to go with the dress,” Mrs. Skrulle announced as she stepped up, placing the shoes by Eva’s feet and holding her hand out for Eva to take to balance herself. Eva’s feels her feet slide into the shoes, like with the dress, fit like they had been made specifically for her. It was as if both the dress and the shoes had been made of magic.

She feels a tug on her hand and finally managed to tear her eyes from where they’d been staring at her reflection in the mirror; the shoes and the dress were gorgeous as individual pieces but worn together they were absolutely mesmerising.

Eva found it hard to tear her own eyes away.

But she’s soon dragged over to the seat she and Mrs. Skrulle had occupied what seemed like a lifetime ago, and pushed back to sit down as the woman worked around her like a woman possessed. She runs out to her cart multiple times, each time coming back with an new item; hair accessories, handful of flowers and a small decorated wooden box filled with knickknacks that Eva can’t make out.

She doesn’t say a word and Eva doesn’t interrupt to ask as she fusses over her; pulling her hair up and doing things to it Eva can only imagine. She keeps silent as the woman tugs and yanks at her scalp, slowly pinning her hair up and away from her face, expertly curling lose tendrils so that they fall as lose waves at the base of her neck and around her face. Her eyes follow the older woman’s hands as she reaches for the handful of little blue flowers she’d plucked off her cart and proceeds to tuck them into the crown of braids she’d weaved out of Eva’s own hair.

“We mustn’t have you late to the ball!” she chirps excitedly as she moves around without pause, finally settling down somewhat as she bends down to a crouch in front of Eva and reaches up for her face.

Eva subconsciously closes her eyes, feeling the tips of the woman’s rough and callous hands gently dabbing something sweet smelling across her cheeks and on her lips. “It smells divine, ma’am,” Eva says when she feels the woman turning away, “What is it?”

“Oh just a little something I cooked up,” she says, “A little dash of sparkle and splash of colour will have all the boys at the ball on their knees begging for second glance back.”

Eva can almost feel her face turning scarlet at the imagery but keeps silent, feeling the woman’s hands continue touching up a spot or two on her face and all of a sudden hit by a wave of nostalgia. But unlike the other times it happened to her in the past, this time it wasn’t sad or painful. This time, if anything, Eva felt happy, almost giddy, even with a small bit of excitement bubbling up in the pit of her stomach.

“Done.”

Eva hears the word being announced proudly and finally opens her eyes.

Mrs. Skrulle is gazing right at her; the tips of her fingers a stained mess of pinks and shimmery golds and some had even accidentally been rubbed across her cheek.

“Perfect,” the woman says, reaching out her unstained hand for Eva to take before leading her back towards the mirror.

Eva steels herself, taking a deep breath, absentminded smoothing down the front of the dress even though she knows it isn’t crinkled in the slightest, before she finally glances up to look at herself in the mirror.

 _That isn’t Eva_.

That’s the first thought that comes to her mind when her eyes finally adjust to the sight. She knows Eva; Eva is the tired face she sees in the reflection in the river when she’s scrubbing her clothes by the bank. Eva is the weary girl with the unravelling braid, brushing damp strands out of her face with the back of her hand as she works to scrub the cinder cleans from the fireplace. Eva is the girl who smells like fish guts for days when she spends her day off helping the fish seller clean his shop.

Eva is the little orphan girl who lives in a small cottage at the edge of town with her dogs and her cats and her mice and rabbits and where her birds and chickens sit perched on the arm rest of her worn sofa all day. She’s kind to people and likes to be helpful and cherishes her friends and the people who mean everything to her and would do absolutely anything for them.

Eva is pretty enough to get by but not exceptionally beautiful like the maidens in the tales her mother used to tell her at night before she went to sleep.

The girl staring back at her in the mirror – that isn’t Eva. It’s a princess from a fairy tale who makes men turn around to gape at in wonder. The one who makes noblemen rein back their horses in awe and princes search entire cities to find even though the only clue they have to go by is a single, unassuming glass shoe.

But that girl _is_ Eva and Eva is that girl and she’s _beautiful_. She deserves to go to the ball and woo men and _be_ and feel beautiful. She deserves to have Chris on her arm, dancing the night away as everyone in the land looks on in envy.

The girl in the mirror deserves happiness and so does Eva.

Eva doesn’t realize she’s crying until she feels the warm trickle of a tear running down her cheek and Mrs. Skrulle’s flustered tsk-ing as she rushes to wipe it away.

“Dear child, why are you crying?” she asks.

Eva sniffles, gathering herself and plastering the best smile she can muster before turning to look at the woman, hoping the sincerity in her heart comes through in her voice and in her words when she says; “Because I’m so happy.”

This time it’s the other woman whose smile forces the pooling tears to trickle down her own cheek. “I’m glad.”

“But… how will I get there?” Eva asks when the thought occurs to her, her smile immediately faltering.

“That, my dear – is nothing you have to worry about,” she says before twirling around in place and marching off towards the door.

Eva just stares at the now empty spot she’d been occupying and only moves to follow her when she hears the sound of a shrill whistling outside her home.

She’s about to step away before she halts and turns one last time to look at her reflection. Her fingers gently touching the side of her face, her cheeks highlighted with a hint of pink and gold that’s nearly the same at the shade that’s on her lips. Eva is familiar with the products Sara and Ingrid are fond of using to primp themselves up before they go out, Noora uses it sometimes as well but for Eva there had never really been the occasion. But she sees how it can really change the shape of a person’s face and their overall look. Even her hair; she’d never had it done by someone with as much skill, the way the tendrils fall by her ear, framing her face and brushing against the nape of her neck and shoulder. The bejewelled front of the dress that follows the curve of her bodice and flares out to the ground and the shimmering veil that falls past her shoulder and trails behind her like the backdrop of the sky. Everything aspect of her look is perfect and that isn’t a word Eva though she’d ever use to describe herself.

“Eva?” She looks up when she hears Mrs. Skrulle calling her from the door. “It’s time.”

Eva takes a deep breath, smoothing down the material of her dress almost nervously before she closes her eyes and turns away from the mirror without a second thought.

Fy and Faen are standing by the door and start wagging their tails when she approaches. Most of the time they would be more than happy to fuss around her and weave in through her legs as she’s trying to walk but this time they just stand back almost as if they could sense that it isn’t the time and place for those types of mischiefs. Eva bends down slightly, petting both of them on the head at the same time with a smile.

“Both of you be good, okay?” She says. “I’ll bring Chris home to us, I promise,” she says and surprises herself by the ease in which those words roll out and how painless it is in her heart even saying them.

The tails wag even more excitedly though both of them remain grounded and patient, keeping close to Eva’s side as she steps out the door into the chilly night air –

To find a simple wooden carriage waiting on her front step and Mister Fossbakken’s kindly smiling face looking back at her from the driver’s seat.

“We couldn’t find anything more extravagant, dear,” Mrs. Skrulle says but Eva can only shake her head.

“No, it’s absolutely perfect,” she says.

“Oh, Eva,” says Mister Fossbakken when he steps down from the carriage and comes up to greet her, “I have not seen a sight more lovely since the day I first laid eyes on my wife.”

“Mister Fossbakken, you didn’t have to trouble yourself,” Eva says.

“It’s no trouble at all, my dear girl,” the man says with a casual wave of his hand. “I’m sorry I could not get anything befitting your beauty tonight though. But Valtersen that no-good old fool from down the street and his damn pumpkins owe me a debt, so I made a deal forgo it in return for the use of his carriage.”

“ _Mister Fossbakken_ ,” Eva admonishes with an exasperated tone.

“Do not _Mister Fossbakken_ me young lady,” the man says with a grin, “For tonight I am but your humble coachman, and milady,” he says with a small bow, one hand tucked behind him and the other stretched out for Eva to take, “You carriage awaits.”

Eva sighs but can’t keep the smile off her face. She turns to hugs Mrs. Skrulle tight, feeling the arms circling around her and latching on just as firm for a long while before they finally pull apart. “Thank you,” Eva says, “For everything.”

“No,” the woman shakes her head, “Thank _you_ , Eva, for still accepting this foolish old woman despite her own misgivings and giving her a chance to make up for her biggest shame.” Eva feels the woman gently patting her on the cheek before her expression turns serious. “Now _go_!”

The laugh escapes Eva’s lips when she turns, accepting Mister Fossbakken’s outstretched hand and following in step as he leads her to the wooden carriage. It’s just a simple wooden carriage, one she remembers seeing passing through the town on occasion stacked high with pumpkins from Mister Valtersen’s farm. But from up close she can see how much time Mister Fossbakken had put into cleaning it up and making it look as beautiful as he can and Eva can’t find the words to explain for much she appreciates the gesture.

“Are you ready, milady?”

She hears Mister Fossbakken ask and turns to find him seated beside her, waiting for her go-ahead to start their journey.

Eva takes a deep breath and lets out a drawn out exhale through her mouth. “I’m ready,” she says and she means that in more ways than one.

She’s ready for the journey to start. She’s ready to get to the ball. She’s ready to face everyone there and see the looks on their faces when she arrives. She’s ready to face the world.

Most of all, she’s ready for the prospect of coming face to face with Chris once again. Instead of the thought of him causing her pain as it had done in the past, this time Eva feels a jolt of excitement coursing through her body like a current.

She’s ready, more than she’s ever been in her life.

**Tbc.**


	11. The Belle of the Ball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Finally an update after approximately a thousand years *embarrassed laugh*... anyway, hope this chapter is worth the wait and rest assured the next one will not that this long. I am assured of this.

 

The journey to the palace is done in near silence but for the clomping of hooves on the gravel road and the neighing of the horses pulling the carriage.

Eva has a lot running through her mind and she’s grateful to Mister Fossbakken for leaving her to her thoughts. Eva knows that she must be beyond late, she doesn’t even know if she’ll even make it in time for the ball, but she forces the negative thoughts from her mind. Instead she thinks about Mrs. Skrulle and all the work she’s put into making her look so beautiful and the courage she mustered up to show up on Eva’s doorstep to ask for forgiveness. She thinks about Mister Fossbakken who’s obviously forgone his own invitation, put work into cleaning up the carriage just so that he’d be able to drive Eva up to the palace without even knowing for certain whether Eva would have ended up going.

She thinks of Noora and Christina and Sana and Vilde who are going to be ecstatic to see her arrive and everyone in the village who’d only seen her sad and depressed for months being able to see her happy for once.

She thinks of the beautiful dress and the beautiful shoes she has on, those that had once belonged to her mother, those that her mother had been wearing the day she and her father met. She thinks of seeing Chris for the first time in months and him seeing her in the dress and wanting him to like it. The thought that Chris might not even be at the ball – the realization that she didn’t even know whether Chris even made it out alive that day tried to pry its way into her mind but she refused to allow it.

Eva is afraid and she doesn’t think she’ll ever truly be free of the fear, but she thinks about Mrs. Skrulle’s words; ‘Being afraid means that you’re _alive_. And isn’t that a good thing?’ and Eva realizes that being alive also means that you can still have _hope_ , so she clings to that instead.

Hope is the one thing nothing and no one can ever truly take away from her and she takes strength from that.

“Eva?” She hears Mister Fossbakken’s voice for the first time jolting her out of her thoughts and looks up to find his eyes on her with a small smile on his face. “We’re here.”

And only then does Eva realize that they’d stopped. The horses were neighing and huffing restlessly, kicking at the cobblestone courtyard they were parked in the middle of. To her right is an extravagant stairwell leading up to the palace looming at the top of the hill; Eva can already hear the sound of the orchestra playing even from that distance.

Before she can react, Mister Fossbakken steps down and crosses around the carriage to stand at the side, extending a hand out for her to take.

Eva takes a deep breath and steels herself before she reaches out to take the offered hand and carefully makes her way down.

“Do you need me to escort you, my dear?” he asks after a few moments, letting Eva take in the sight and attempting to get the thundering of her heart under control.

Eva considers the offer for a while before she shakes her head slowly. “No, Mister Fossbakken. Thank you for the offer but… but I think this is something I need to do myself.”

“Of course. Just remember that I’m here and all your friends are here for you, alright? You’re not alone, Eva, and you never will be.”

Eva blinks back the dampness in her eyes and without warning leans forward to circle her arms around the man’s chest, tucking herself into the embrace he so easily reciprocates. It’s the comforting embrace of a father that Eva can barely remember, but means just as much coming from a man who’s come to mean so much to her.

“Thank you, Mister Fossbakken,” she says, “Thank you for being like the father I lost. Thank you for always being there with a smile on your face and extending the kindness that I need. Thank you for being the kind of father a girl would be lucky to have in her life.”

Eva feels him still suddenly before his arms grip her tighter to her chest.

After a moment they finally pull apart and Eva can see that the man has tears running down his face. He doesn’t let go of her shoulders immediately and instead stops to stare straight into her eyes.

“A man can live his entire life just wishing to hear those words being said to him by his blood, but to hear them being said by you, Eva, is the greatest honour this old fool can ever wish to receive, so thank you. I’d say the same about you too. I love Magnus, he is my only son and my kin, but you are something different entirely but no less special and no less precious to me. I go to bed every night wishing you all the happiness in the world because it’s what you deserve and I pray you find it tonight,” he says, stroking the side of Eva’s face with his thumb. “Now off with you! Don’t waste more time listening to this belligerent old man’s ramblings. You have friends waiting for you and an entire kingdom to enthral with your beauty tonight.”

Eva can feel the burn of the tears threatening to come but it's washed away by the laughter they share at the end.

She doesn’t turn around as she ascends the steps, she can feel the heat of Mister Fossbakken’s eyes following her before she reaches the top of the stairwell and is greeted by the massive door leading into the palace.

The entire courtyard and the surrounding area of the palace is empty which means that everyone present has already made their way towards the grand ballroom.

It’s only her and the palace guards guarding the door in the area, two of them who rush to open the now closed door once they notice her approach.

“Milady,” one of them says as they hold the door open to allow Eva entry and Eva curtsy’s a thank you to both of them as she passes.

It only occurs to Eva that she has no idea where she’s going once she steps into the grand hallway, looking at the extravagant tapestries of past monarchs and the expensive furniture that adorn the beautiful hall.

She turns around immediately with a sheepish smile to address one of the tall guards still standing at the ready by the door.

“Forgive me, sir,” she says, “I’m afraid I do not know the way.”

The guard looks slightly taken aback, Eva doesn’t know whether it’s because he didn’t expect there to be anyone showing up late and ending up not knowing where to go or perhaps he wasn’t used to being addressed as sir by anyone inside the palace. Eva feels the same whenever someone addresses her as milady.

“Yes, milady,” he says immediately, with a small respectful bow. “This way,” he adds when he steps up, extending a hand out in front of him to lead the way.

Eva responds with thankful nod though she isn’t able to wipe the small embarrassed smile off her face.

“I’m sorry for troubling you,” she says a few steps in and the guard immediately turns to face her.

“It is absolutely no trouble at all, milady. We are here to serve,” he says, a small smile tugging at his lips for the first time since Eva arrived. Eva notices that he has a beautifully charming smile; it’s different from Chris’s but no less of a sight to behold. “Might I ask the lady a question? Forgive me if I’m stepping out of line.”

Eva’s smile grows at that. “Yes you may, though I’m not such a lady to have that kind of line that bars crossing.”

The guard looks befuddled by the words but doesn’t stop from continuing. “From which kingdom do you hail? We at the palace have seen many aristocratic ladies and noblewomen from far and wide and I would have recalled meeting one with beauty and grace such as yours.”

Eva chuckles a little at that. “You flatter me too much, kind sir. I’m no aristocrat or noble woman and I hail from this very kingdom on this very land we stand on. I’m just a little village girl who lives in a cottage on the edge of the forest and cleans the cinder from nobler people’s fireplace for a living.”

The guard looks absolutely taken aback by her answer and his reaction amuses Eva to no end. Though he manages to school his expression almost immediately just as they come to a stop in front of a large, expansive door embossed with shimmering gold. “Then this great kingdom has become even greater having a person with such beauty living off it,” he says and this time it’s Eva who’s left gobsmacked.

He gives her a small bow before turning around to speak with the two guards standing at the ready by the door they are standing in front of.

Eva doesn’t know what he’s saying to them, but all three give her an odd look before the two reach over to push open the door and the one who’s been accompanying her steps back to allow her entrance.

“I wish you the best time, milady,” he says.

Eva takes a deep breath, smoothing down the front of her dress and takes a step towards the now open door. Beyond it she sees a small balcony and steps on either side leading down the grand ballroom below; she can hear the music of the orchestra playing and the general sounds of merriment coming from the floor.

Just before she enters, she stops and turns around to address the guard who’d escorted her. “It’s not milady,” she says with a smile, “It’s just Eva.”

The guard reciprocates her smile easily. “My name is Even,” he says with a final bow, “It has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Eva.”

“As it has been yours,” Eva says before turning back and stepping the rest of the way in.

\--

If any part of Eva’s naïve mind had been hoping to make a discreet entrance, the hope is quickly dashed the moment she steps in through the door and the royal herald notices her presence immediately; stepping up to greet her and ask her name.

It’s like an avalanche effect from that point on, one that Eva feels like she’s looking at from outside her own body.

The moment the herald clears his throat to announce her arrival, the orchestra immediately stops playing and every single eye in the ballroom turns around to look for the cause for the halt in the music.

All of a sudden Eva can’t breathe.

All eyes in the majestic ballroom are on her; common folk and aristocrats alike; nobles and royals from far and wide and even the king who’s watching over the festivities from the grand balcony opposite the stairwell.  She looks at the faces of the people staring up at her, most of them she doesn’t know, before she finds those few she recognizes and the handful of them that knows more intimately than the back of her own hand. She focuses on them instead. All of them are looking at her with their mouths agape though even from the distance Eva can see the happiness in their expression.

She recognizes the faces of the rest of townspeople standing around Noora and her friends; the fish monger and his wife looking the most dressed up as she’s ever seen him. She spots Sara and Ingrid standing with their dates close to the center of the ballroom. She sees Magnus standing beside Vilde and Magnus’s friend Isak just a little off to the side. She finds William just as easily as she’d found Noora – standing tall among the other guests and looking every bit as regal as the prince in Noora’s favourite fairy tale.

Eva is almost overcome by nerves, but instead of showing her anxiousness and how afraid she’s feeling on the inside, she squares her shoulders; gathers the hem of his skirt in one hand – the way her mother had taught her– and steps towards the half spiral staircase leading to the landing overlooking the floor where everyone is gathered.

In her mind she imagines her mother and father looking down at her brimming with pride. She images the look in their eyes and the smile on their faces and musters up all the grace and elegance, the refinement she’d been taught as a child before she became Eva who found comfort cleaning cinder from the fireplace – she cleaned them as they’d never been cleaned before and the feeling of pride she felt at the end of the day was worth the pain and the hard work. She pretends she isn’t the lonely orphan girl who lives in a cottage with her animals and spends her weekends helping cleaning fish guts out of the gutter.

For a moment she pretends that she’s indeed the visiting noblewoman that the young guardsman had mistaken her for.

For a moment she pretends that she isn’t cinder Eva, the poor orphan girl who lost both her parents, but just _Eva_ , daughter of Alexander and Anne-Marit that they would have been so proud of.

Eva doesn’t think of Chris the moment she descends the stairwell, followed by hundreds of interested, curious eyes, as the voice of herald booms behind her announcing her to the masses. All of a sudden Eva can’t remember whether she’d given him an answer when he asked her name.

“Announcing, the Lady Eva,” the man says, “Daughter of late Earl and Countess Mohn.”

Eva stalls the moment the words leave the herald’s mouth and she turns around to look at him; finding the man already staring back at her, an unreadable look on his face. In the back of her consciousness she can her the hushed whispering among the crowd.

Eva doesn’t recall telling him her family’s name or the fact that her parents had been nobles in the past, mainly because it’s a fact that deserves to stay in the past. As far as Eva is concerned, their titles died along with them. It wasn’t something a young Eva wanted or something a teenage Eva needed, it wouldn’t have brought her parents back and it would have meant nothing to Fy or Faen or any of her animals that kept her going after they died.

But hearing the title being announced in such a way by such a person during such an occasion, Eva thinks she couldn’t have asked for anything better.

The bemused look on her face doesn’t linger, she quickly spares the older man a smile that she hopes conveys the appreciation she feels. The edges of his wrinkled mouth curls into a smile and he bows to her in response.

Immediately Eva turns back to continue her descent. The whispering that began when the herald announced her as the daughter of the long forgotten Earl hadn’t died down by the time she turns around, instead everyone’s attention seems much more interested in her than just the girl who interrupted the king’s ball.

From the vantage point she has at the top of the stairs she can make out the brightly coloured garments customary of the people in her kingdom and it’s a stark difference from the dark muted colours worn by at least one third of the crowd down below. She thinks she can even make out the embroidered wolf head some of the men have sewn into the shoulder of their jacket.

The crowd gathered below obviously had been mingling with each other before Eva’s arrival interrupted the festivities but she can see the obvious divide between the crowd. The brightly dressed guests are concentrated on the left side of the ballroom, keeping an obvious distance from their starkly dressed Southern guests who are all but huddled together at the opposite end of the room.

Eva has never seen another person from the South besides Chris and his friend Erik, but just like Chris the first time he came into her home, she can see the heaviness they obviously have weighing on their shoulders and the stoic way they carry themselves, though it isn’t so much out of arrogance but caution. None of them are smiling, not the women or the children who stay close to their parent’s side and they’re all watching their Northern kin warily from afar. None of them seem like they even want to be there in the unfamiliar kingdom with the very people they’d been enemies with for so long.

Eva can understand the feeling.

But the apprehensive atmosphere isn’t just restricted to one half of room, she can see the same fear and suspicion shining in the eyes of her Northern kin eyeing the very people who’d been painted as the monsters under their beds and merciless killers by their parents and their grandparents for decades.

She tries not to scan the crowd too obviously for the one face she so desperately wants to gaze upon again, but it’s hard.

Her heart starts beating just a little bit faster from the adrenaline.

The sea of people before her part the moment she steps onto the ballroom floor, each and every one of them following her with their eyes – even the Southern people are watching her closely, obviously intrigued by the dramatics of it all.

Eva pays no heed to the hushed whispers or the sound of her own name as it’s passed from one person to the next, following her like a shadow. Instead she focuses on the few faces in the crowd she can recognize – the miller and his wife, the town tailor who embroiders the most beautiful handkerchiefs; the townswomen and men she passes by on the street on the regular and especially the handful of people standing at the end of the divided crowd waiting for her.

_Her friends._

The orchestra once again resumes their playing once the drama has died down but the interests of the people remain on her. Eva tries not to show her nervousness at being the center of attention so obviously and the feat becomes so much easier once her friends are by her side.

“Oh, _Eva_ ,” Vilde exclaims in obvious wonderment the moment she steps up, “You’re so beautiful! You’re like – like one of the princesses from the fairy tales!”

Eva can’t help her blush.

“You know I’m the first one to differ when Vilde gets into one of her overdramatic moment,” Sana adds, “But tonight, she’s absolutely right. You’re the most beautiful belle of this ball, Eva, and you know I don’t say these things lightly.”

“Sana, Vilde,” Eva says softly though. Her friends are always too sweet and too kind with their words and Eva doesn’t know what she did in another life to deserve being surrounded by such good people. “You’re far too kind, but thank you.”

Eva allows Christina, Sana and Vilde to continue on to examine her dress from up close as she turns to the final member of their group – and finds Noora standing there with her hands cupping her mouth and tears flowing freely down her cheeks.

Eva’s smile immediately drops, but before she can open her mouth to ask Noora what’s the matter, the other girl rushes up to engulf her in a tight hug.

“Oh, Eva,” she hears Noora’s tearful voice saying into her ear as she circles her arms around Noora’s waist to return the hug, “Eva… you’re so beautiful, and I’m so happy that you’ve come. So _very_ happy. This celebration would not have been a celebration without you here,” she says, finally letting go and taking a step back. “And here you are, looking like a vision of the most beautiful angel on earth. You’ve always been beautiful to us, Eva, but tonight, _everyone_ can see just how beautiful you are in every way imaginable.”

Eva feels warm tears pooling in the corner of her eyes as he reaches up to grasp Noora’s hands that are cupping her face. Noora’s thumb wipes the tears away before they even get the chance to trickle down and mess up her beautiful make up.

“No, there’ll be no tears from you tonight,” Noora admonishes gently, sniffling back her own, “Nor any of us. Tonight is a time for happiness and joy and we will be happy and joyful even if I have to kill every single person in this room to make that happen.”

Eva’s heart feels immediately lighter when she laughs, and almost soars when Noora and the rest of the girls start laughing with her.

They give her a moment to gather herself. By that point the rest of the gathered crowd besides a handful of stragglers seem to have had their fill of the mysterious girl who showed up out of nowhere and stopped the king’s own ball. But out of the corner of her eye Eva can still see people casting a surreptitious glance back every now and then.

“Eva.” Eva turns to the sound of the manly voice and finds William sidling up beside Noora, looking handsome and sharp in his finely tailored suit. “I’m happy to see you decided to come. For the record, the same offer still stands.”

Eva grins at that. Though she doesn’t feel obligated to explain when Sana, Vilde and Christina look at her with bemusement seeking an elaboration.

“I’m sorry I’m late.”

“Though you did make a pretty spectacular entrance, you’re not that late. Or rather, you didn’t miss much,” explains Christina. She continues when Eva raises a questioning eyebrow at her. “I take it you’ve noticed this divide between us and them? –” she motions to invisible line running through the center of the ballroom separating the North and the Southern guests as strictly as their own borders had done for hundreds of years, “We’ve been waiting for the first person to muster up the courage to finally cross it. I’d do it myself but none of these people –” she points to Vilde, Noora and Sana with an accusing finger, “ – Will let me do it.”

“I mean this in the kindest way, Christina,” says Sana as a matter of fact, her expression completely stoic, “But you’re more likely to start _another_ war on the eve of this one barely ending by going over there. It’s for the good of both kingdoms that we stop you.”

Christina glowers at Sana but doesn’t disagree with her words.

 Eva looks between Sana grinning at a pouting Christina and can’t help the warm feeling inside her chest at the sight. For a moment, everything feels just perfect. She’s there with her friends, the people who mean the most to her; wearing a dress that still even smells the way she remembers her mother used to smell and feeling on the inside the way she can only imagine she looks on the outside. Noora is looking at William tenderly and Magnus has his arms around Vilde, like her nearness is what fuels him. Everything is as it should be and it feels nice.

But like everything else in Eva’s life, the moment is fleeting and it doesn’t last.

It starts with silence – the kind that just all of a sudden descends with no warning. First Eva is listening to the sound of indistinct chatter around her then all of a sudden everything just halts. The silence soon turns into a wave of murmuring that seemingly expands outwards from somewhere in Eva’s periphery.

One moment Eva is looking at Sana grinning at Christina and Noora and Vilde both watching the happening with amusement – then all of a sudden their attention immediately turns towards Eva, but not looking at Eva. Their eyes are focused on something past Eva’s shoulder.

Eva doesn’t know why, but her heart all of a sudden gives an unexpected lurch, almost as if it can sense what’s going on before Eva’s brain can even begin processing what’s happening. She can feel her nervousness in her throat and she doesn’t even know why.

But deep down – she does know why.

She wills herself not to cry.

She manages to, at least for a while; raising both hands to her heart; feeling the thundering of her own heart beating against her chest.

_Only for a while._

It isn’t until she senses the presence of figure stepping up behind her, drowning out every other sound in the room until it’s no louder than a hushed murmur heard from under water – the sound of his breathing and her own heaving breath almost like an echo inside the bubble she’s standing inside of; not until she hears the too familiar voice – the voice she’s yearned to hear for so long – does Eva finally let out the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

“My lady,” says the disembodied voice – so gentle, so beautiful and so familiar, “May I have the honour of this dance with you?”

Eva swallows hard, forcing her heart back down to its place in her chest. She closes her eyes and forces herself to inhale and exhale – inhale and exhale – inhale and exhale – the same way she guided Chris during the festival – the same way she forced herself to do when her grief was too strong and she could feel her own tears starting to choke her.

Inhale and exhale.

Inhale and exhale.

Finally, Eva turns around.

**Tbc.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... yeah... Remember when I said that this is going to be the last chapter? Well… *nervous laughter*


	12. Her Prince Charming

Fairy tale endings don’t happen to regular folk. At least, they don’t happen to Eva.

They happen to beautiful people like Noora and Ingrid. They happen to innocent, wide eyed girls like Vilde who dream about it since they were children. They happen to people who want it.

Eva never wanted it. At least, Eva never thought she deserved it because if life taught her anything, it’s that love doesn’t last and people you care about end up leaving you in the end anyway.

And up until that moment, she believed it with all her heart.

But Chris came back.

He made a promise to her and he kept it.

He came back to her.

He came back _for_ her and to Eva that was worth all the fairy tales in the world.

She’s looking at his face, standing right in front of her and it’s hard not to believe that it’s all a dream; that it’s all in her head and she’s still back at her cottage lost in the throes of grief and sadness.

His face still looks the same, though his hair has grown – Eva can tell even though he has it brushed back neatly, not tousled and hanging over his forehead the way she’s become accustomed to seeing. Eva can spot a few new blemishes and scars that she knows hadn’t been there before, but it’s still the same face she sees in her dreams. His eyes are still the gorgeous green speckled with gold – intense and knowing though shining of experience and pain beyond his physical age – and they’re looking at Eva like she’s the only thing in the room worth looking at.

They’re looking at Eva in a way that makes Eva feel like she’s the only thing in the world that matters.

He’s dressed in a black uniform similar to the rest of his Southern kin though Eva notices that the Wolfhead embroidered across the left part of his chest and across his shoulder is woven with gold thread instead of silver like the rest of the Penetrators, and the eyes of his Wolf is adorned with two glimmering emerald stones – like the ones she remembers staring back at her through the darkness of the forest that fateful stormy night.

The only thing absent in that moment is his smile.

Chris looks as nervous and as emotional as Eva feels on the inside. It’s not something anyone else would have noticed because Chris hides his thoughts and his emotions better than most, but Eva can see it clear as day. His eyes sparkle under the light of the chandelier adorning the great ballroom, but they are also holding back emotions and tears and in that moment, Eva feels a little less nervous, if nothing else, it’s because she knows she isn’t alone in her feelings. She can see that Chris feels exactly the same and moment of amity comforts her, the same way Mrs. Skrulle’s grief had made her feel a little less alone with hers.

“Most gorgeous lady,” Chris says, unfurling his hand from where he has them clutched tight behind his back and extending it to Eva. His posture is slightly bowed in the show of respect Eva has come used to seeing, “Will you grant me this great honour?” he asks again.

Eva swallows the lump in her throat. Her heart has stopped thundering beneath her ribcage though it skips a beat when she tears her eyes away from Chris’s intense gaze to stare at the offered appendage.

Many a night has she dreamt of that moment; to feel Chris’s arms around her once again; to feel his hand gripping her own and his lips whispering comforting words into her ear.

Every single morning she wakes up in dampness made by her own tears and an overwhelming feeling of regret that she had woken up at all.

Her eyes find Chris’s gaze once again and keeps it. Without word she reaches over to place her hand atop his; basking in the familiar warmth of the calloused hands grasping onto hers like he never wants to let go again.

They don’t speak a single word when Chris leads her away from her friends and out onto the barren dance floor.

Out of the corner of her eye Eva can see the crowd parting without word – the hall is still and silent, only their eyes move following her and Chris interestedly as they make their way to the dance floor, Northerners and Southerners alike.

In the back of her mind Eva can hear as the scattered whispers rise up again, but it’s nothing new; nothing she hadn’t experienced from the moment she stepped in through the door. But somewhere, a single voice stands out, booming inside the hall above the other chatter. Eva doesn’t know who’s speaking but he must be one of the palace heralds. Eva doesn’t really understand what he’s saying when he announces to the masses:

“My lords and ladies, honoured guests of the crown; please make way for the first dance of the Crown Prince of the Southern Nation and his most beautiful Lady.”

Eva hears the words the man is saying but it doesn’t really register inside her brain. But she can hear the way the chattering grows in intensity and volume once the man finishes.

The only thing she can focus on, the only thing that matters in that moment is the man walking beside her, guiding her away from her friends.

Eva is aware of every single eye in that ballroom, townsfolk, nobles and royalty alike, being on her and Chris and at any other time, in any other situation, the realization would have petrified her. But Chris is there with her, holding her hand and keeping her close and Eva can’t seem to recall what it feels like to be afraid. For a moment, she can’t remember what it feels like to be alone because no matter how hurt she’d been by Chris’s absence, no matter how much pain it had caused her – he kept his promise. He came back and Eva doesn’t have to be alone anymore.

They don’t speak. Their eyes say everything that needs to be said.

Eva stops walking when Chris stops and he turns to face her, hand still grasping onto hers like a lifeline. He lifts up her hand he’s holding, plants a gentle kiss on the back of her knuckles before placing it gently on his shoulder before placing his now free hand on her hip.

The familiarity of the motion casts Eva back into her memories. She remembers dancing with her father when she was little, standing on his feet laughing as he twirled her about the room. She remembers dancing with her mother when it was just the two of them in the bedroom. She remembers the dancing teacher complimenting how fast she picked up the skill.

She never thought she’d ever get the chance to use what she’d been thought – the skill no one but Noora even knew she possessed.

Her left hand comes up to cover the hand Chris has extended to her and for a split second, the both of them just stand there unmoving, latching onto one another.

Then the orchestra begins playing a new set and Eva feels her body moving without her brain having to do much at all.

She’s gliding across the floor in Chris’s arms, feeling as of her feet aren’t even touching the ground at all.

Their bodies move together, floating past the rows of people crowding around to watch their dance. Once in a while Eva’s eyes catch a glimpse of the people they glide past, even the stoic, emotionless Southern women look enthralled by their dancing.

The melody rises and falls. Eva feels herself spinning in Chris’s arms, the hem of her skirt billowing around her like it’s been lifted up by faeries; the glitter on her dress sparkling under the light like shining of stars.

Eva closes her eyes and just feels the melody run through hers and Chris’s body. She doesn’t look at the crowd, she doesn’t look at the king up on the balcony looking down at the spectacle. She doesn’t look around for her friends. She doesn’t even look at Chris, only feeling the heat of his body rubbing up against hers and the thumping of his heart she can feel against her chest.

The crescendo of the orchestra hits fever pitch; Eva can feel it in the middle of her chest, twisting and winding and driving the breath from her lungs.

Higher and higher and higher it goes.

She grasps onto Chris’s hand as they spin and spin and spin around to the melody. It feels like they’re flying. Her dress floats around her like a beautiful mist, glittering in the air. The eyes of the Wolfhead on Chris’s shoulder sparkles menacingly at anyone who stares to long.

They spin and spin. The tempo builds and builds and builds until it reaches peak before there’s a beat and the percussions snap Eva out of her trance.

Her tears flow freely, like shiny droplets in the air before she throws her arms around Chris’s shoulders and latches on tight, burying her face in the curve of his neck. She forgets about the dance, she forgets about the palace and the kings and all the people watching. She forgets about everything else because in Eva’s world right then there is only Chris.

The orchestra settles down into a more relaxed cadence leaving the focus completely on the two still figures embracing unmoving in the middle of the dance floor.

There’s a small commotion near the far left side of the room before a section of the gathered crowd is pushed aside by a lithe figure dressed in light blue, dragging her less than eager escort out onto the barren dance floor.

Noora knows it’s time for action, instead of just standing around stupidly watching one of the most precious people to her experience her moment of vulnerability in the public eye like that. So she grabs William around the wrist and without waiting giving him a chance to refuse drags him past the cluster of people in front of her out onto the floor. There’s no room for arguments and hesitation and although William seems surprised at first by the sudden motion, he quickly catches on to her intention. By the time they’re out on the floor, taking some of the attention off of Eva and Chris still embracing each other tightly, William has his arm around her waist and the other guiding her hand.

Her eyes lock on to Vilde who has quickly followed suit, pulling a slightly more hesitant Magnus behind her.

The orchestra continues playing with no interruption so Noora and William begin to dance.

Slowly, people’s attention start focusing away from Eva and Chris as the dance floor gains more and more occupants. Immediately Noora notices with great pride that it’s the people of her town that begin to shuffle into the limelight. She spots the vendors and the shop owners and everyone who knows and cares about Eva. She spots Christina stepping onto the dancefloor with a little too much enthusiasm, dragging one of shocked  Penetrators with her. Noora thinks she even recognizes him from the attack on the town all those months ago.

After a while she spots Sana standing to the side – surprisingly, she isn’t alone. One of the men dressed in the Penetrators uniform is speaking to her and though she looks completely disinterested in what he’s saying Noora can spot the smile tugging at the corner of her lips even from that distance.

Slowly the dance floor begins filling up; she can barely spot Eva and Chris until she stares harder into the dancing masses, but they’re there, right in the middle still lost in their own little world. Eva still has her face buried in Chris’s shoulder, her arms latching onto his neck tight and Chris has his arms locked around her, holding her close, his eyes closed and his cheek resting against the side of her head.

Noora almost cries. _Almost_ , but she doesn’t. She made a promise to herself and to Eva that she wasn’t going to and she intends on keeping that promise.

Instead she smiles; wide and toothy and she looks up to find William’s eyes already on her.

“What?” she asks when he continues staring without saying word.

He doesn’t answer, his eyes continue their intense gazing until he eventually lets out a smile. “You’re beautiful,” he says, “And an amazing friend.”

Noora almost blushes. “Eva is an amazing person,” she says.

“That she is,” William says, “And she deserves an amazing friend, and she has it. I’m happy for her.”

Noora smiles at that (and a tear or two may or may not have appeared at the comment). “I am too. She deserves this. They both deserve this happiness.”

Williams nods at that.

Noora tears her eyes away for a moment to look towards Eva and Chris but finds the spot they were standing in just a moment ago empty. She looks around for them but can’t spot them among the gathered crowd anymore, but she isn’t worried. She knows that there’s no safer place for Eva to be than with Chris.

“Although, did I or did I not hear correctly when the herald said ‘crown prince’?” William says bemused.

Noora laughs at that. She’d heard the same and for that split second she was almost taken aback by surprise. But looking at Eva and Chris out there on the dance floor; seeing how beautiful they were together. Seeing that, although neither of them were smiling, Noora could sense the joy and the happiness rolling off them like a mist. Being there having the honour of witnessing all that with her own two eyes, Noora thinks that she can and will accept anything as long as it means that Eva finally gets the happily ever after she deserves.

And what better way to have a happily ever after than with an actual prince?

Though it doesn’t mean that Noora isn’t going to interrogate him for details at some point; it’s her duty as Eva’s best friend to watch out for her well-being after all.

**Tbc.**

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me @[reivenesque](http://reivenesque.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.


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